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Unmasked Chpt 12
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TW- Death/Murder/Blood
Summary- Ghostface has injured Spencer. Can you save him from your wretched fate?
Word Count- 1.7k
I should have known better. Carnage follows me everywhere. One thing I know for certain is I won’t let this be Spencer Reid’s end. He deserves better than this.
Jill is done taunting me about my feelings. “The ending of the movie was supposed to be at the house,” she sets her vengeful gaze on Sid. “I mean, this is just silly.”
“Consider this an alternate ending,” Sid growls.
“You are never gonna get out of this, Jill. This hospital is full of cops and agents,” I shake my head.
“Of course I will,” she screams. She redirects the gun she stole from Reid in my direction.
“Dewey,” I hear Gale scream.
I sigh. I may hold some grudges towards Gale, but I would never actually want her involved in this situation. I don’t want her to see Dewey unconscious on the floor. I know the heartshattering feeling too well. Yet I can’t help myself from still staring at Spencer’s limp body.
As soon as Gale enters the room, Jill has the gun pointed in her direction.
“Sid! Y/n!” She screams.
Sid passes out, presumably due to the blood loss, but it could be from the concussion she just received. I don’t know how I am still awake, as my stitches were ripped open by Jill’s knee a while ago. God bless adrenaline, I guess. If I make it through this, I am definitely going to need another blood transfusion.
“Easy. Okay, wait. What about the book?” Gale attempts to persuade Jill.
“Looks like I’ll just have to write it myself,” she smirks.
A speedy blur intercepts Gale. Together, they rolled over the unoccupied hospital bed and ducked behind it, just before Jill fired the gun. My heart is beating out of my chest. I almost just witnessed Gale die right in front of me.
I recognize the blur now as I see Prentiss’s familiar face peek out from behind the bed.
“Don’t even think about shooting, or I’ll blow Dewey’s head off,” Jill points the gun towards them.
I can’t hear what Gale is saying exactly, but I can see she is pleading with Prentiss. Yet Prentiss remains holding her gun in Jill’s direction.
“What! This isn’t enough for you! You’re one of those agents, right? What if I blow this guy's head off instead?” She screams.
I watch in horror as she points her gun at Spencer. I try to crawl to him. I need to do something! Yet, my blood coats the ground, making crawling without slipping impossible. I look at Prentiss, trying to convey with my eyes to listen to Jill.
Jill continues to scream, “You think I won’t do it? Give me your gun!
I watch Prentiss slowly rise from behind the bed with her hands up.
“You just had to be the hero, huh? Give me your gun.” She is getting angrier and angrier, “What are you, deaf? Give me your gun!”
I watch Prentiss’s eyes. I can tell her mind is at war with itself. She could risk Reid’s life and take the shot. It’s part of the job. Protect civilians like Gale over agents like ourselves. Her other option is giving Gale the gun, which goes against all protocol, but it could keep Reid and me alive. She shuts her eyes tight, growls, and throws the gun in Jill’s direction. Jill smiles and simply kicks the gun away.
I shut my eyes tight to keep the tears at bay. I know she plans to kill all witnesses, even though there is no way she is getting out of this. I have to end this. Prescotts always come out on top when Ghostface is involved. I take notice of the electric paddles near me. I quietly scoot towards the paddles, getting covered in a mix of Sid‘s blood and mine. Jill is too distracted yelling at Prentiss to notice.
“Now, get up. And keep your hands over your head,” she demands. It looks like she is getting ready to pursue an execution style kill.
“Don’t do anything stupid, “Prentiss remains calm as always. She is department chief for a reason.
I nearly drop the paddles at the loud sound of the gun being fired. My eyes widen, and I bite my lip so hard it bleeds to prevent myself from screaming. I watch the bullet enter Prentiss’s shoulder. Her whole body jerked back due to the sheer force of the bullet. I have to look away as she falls to the ground. I quietly do some deep breathing; it’s just her shoulder. She can live. I just need to stop Jill’s rampage.
“Oh, God,” I hear Gale cry.
Jill directs her attention to her now, “Get up now bitch.”
I pet my unconscious sister’s head and whisper, “It’s okay. I am gonna get us out of this.”
Jill is losing her patience with Gale. That is, if she had any to begin with.
“Get up! Now!” She screams again.
“Okay,” Gale says out of breath. She stands up slowly from behind the hospital bed as she shakes slightly.
“Come on!” Jill points with her head in the direction she wants Gale to go. I frown as I hear Dewey’s light whimpers as he wakes up.
“Come on! Let’s go! Get your ass out here,” she demands.
“Okay,” Gale pants.
I know I am running out of time. It is a struggle to charge the paddles. My hands are too slippery from the blood. I have nothing to dry them off with; my entire hospital gown is drenched. I just know I can’t give up, so I continue to press the button over and over again until it sticks.
“I’m gonna enjoy blowing your head off,” you can hear the smile in Jill’s voice as she says it.
“Okay. But can I just have one final word?” Gale asks with sincerity.
“What? Please,” Jill grimaces.
I finally get the paddles to charge and slowly stand using the machine for balance. God, I feel like I am going to vomit. There is no going back now.
“No,” Gale responds to Jill.
I watch the numbers on the machine go up rapidly up as it charges to the highest setting.
“Clear,” Gale says.
“Clear,” Jill says in utter confusion.
I shake my head at the absurdity of this situation. Yet I dive forward and hold the paddles against her head. Her body convulsed under the electricity until she fell to the ground.
Sid’s eyes flutter open, “Don’t fuck with the orginals.”
Gale’s eyes are still wide as she slowly lowers her hands. I quickly put the paddles back and rushed to Spencer’s side. I grab his face gently, my tears falling onto his face.
“Spencer, wake up. Please Spencer. Tell me you’re okay,” I beg.
Spencer moans, his eyes squinting as they adjust to the light. I waste no time in enveloping him in a hug. I practically throw my whole body on him. Then I quickly pull back, realizing I just coated his entire outfit in my blood. He doesn’t seem to mind at all, his eyes full of relief.
He pauses and looks deep into my eyes. This would usually freak me out, knowing how much he loathes eye contact. However, I am just happy to see the light still alive and well in his eyes. My eyes widen in shock as he grasps my cheek and kisses me. I pause not because I don’t want to kiss Reid, but because this is the last thing expected to happen with Ghostface back. I thought the constant presence of serial killers in my life and the fact that I hid everything about myself away would scare everyone away. Yet here we are. Spencer Reid is kissing me.
He pulls back, “I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. This was probably the worst moment to do that. I don’t even know if you feel like-”
I shut up, diving forward, and reciprocate the kiss this time. His hand captures my hair, deepening the kiss.
A dazed Sidney Prescrott awkwardly clears her throat. Spencer and I rapidly separate ourselves from each other. Each of our faces a deep shade of pink. Spencer notices me wince as I pull myself away from him.
His eyes widen, “Are you okay?”
“Don’t worry, it’s not all my blood… most of it is though,” I mumble the last part.
Gale shakes her head at me as she attempts to help Dewey up.
“She was standing right behind us.” Dewey starts to explain what happened to Gale.
“They always are,” Sid agrees.
During this conversation, I feel the hairs raise on the back of my neck. It could just be the subject matter or adrenaline crash. However, when you work at the BAU for so long, you get kind of a sixth sense for these sorts of things. I pick up Spencer’s gun that Jill had dropped when I shocked her. I turn around, gun raised. Lo and behold, Jill, standing behind all of us with a blade of glass. I don’t think twice as I shoot her in the stomach.
Now comes the adrenaline crash. After I see Jill hit the floor one final time, all the pain catches up to me. I fall backwards onto the floor, but feel Spencer’s familiar hands cradle my head.
“Oh, God,” Gale pants.
Prentiss slowly starts to rise from behind the bed, smiling, “Nice one. L/N. Reid. Report to HR when we get back.”
Gale looks shocked, “How are you still alive?”
“Wear the vest, save the chest. In this case, more so my collarbone. I am gonna have one hell of a bruise.”
Dewey speaks into his intercom, “We have one officer down, two agents down, and several injuries. And a new suspect.”
As soon as he gets the words out, he goes unconscious. I feel I am heading that way myself. I hear Gale and Reid yelling, but it sounds like they are underwater. Even when Reid is yelling, his voice is soothing. How does he do it? I can’t help but close my eyes.
Unmasked Chpt 11
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TW- Death/Murder/Blood
Summary- You arrive at the hospital, barely hanging on. Can Spencer unravel the truth?
Word Count- 2.9k
I can’t open my eyes, they are too heavy. I swear I can hear Spencer’s voice. There is so much screaming and shouting. I wish they would all shut up. I just want to listen to his voice. I know I am dying. I’ve been an agent for a long time. I know how much blood a person can lose, and I’ve certainly gone way past the limit. If I am going to die, I just want to be able to hear his voice last. That is way too selfish of me to even think. He deserves better, and I certainly don’t deserve him. Yet when I feel his familiar hand grasp mine, I feel at peace. The machines may be beeping louder, and people may be screaming even louder, but I finally feel I can rest.
“Sir, please, you need to back up, so we can do our job,” a frantic paramedic yells. The pocheor paramedic has to pry your cold hand away from Spencer’s
“We have a female late twenties presenting with multiple penetrating traumas with massive hemorrhaging and possible signs of shock en route,” another EMT shouts into his intercom.
Spencer watches in horrified silence. As the two EMTs in the back of the ambulance hook you up to every machine possible. Your prognosis isn’t looking good as the two paramedics work in complete silence, trying to make sure you remain stable until you get to the hospital. The ambulance gets to the hospital in record-breaking speed. It, of course, is good for your odds that you arrived at the hospital so fast. However, the fact that amubulance drove at such speeds does nothing to ease Spencer's worries.
The two paramedics have a hard time getting unconscious you into the hospital. Somehow, word has already gotten out to the press about the supposed Ghostface killers.
The rest of the BAU arrive not too long after the ambulance. The team must have broken at least fifty traffic violations to get here so fast. They are quick to help fend off the press so the paramedics can get you into the hospital. The team may have helped you receive care, but they were far from done with press.
“Prentiss! As head of the BAU, can you give us a statement?” Journalists swarm the team with an onslaught of questions. “Why was the victim Jill Prescott's ex-boyfriend questioned?”
“Were Charlie and Trevor suspects?”
“Was your tech personnel aware that the two were recording the whole time?”
The questions would not stop. JJ had to clear a path and shout, “No questions can be answered at this time! This is still an ongoing investigation!”
The reporters just got louder and angrier. Rossi tried to subtly lead Reid into the hospital. Seeing you like that had truly done something to Reid. He has not said a single word since leaving the ambulance. You would have thought he was the one who got stabbed from the looks of him. He was drenched in your blood with a vacant look in his eyes.
Once inside the hospital, away from the prying eyes of the reporters, Rossi puts his hands on Reid's shoulders. “She’s gonna be okay, kid.”
Spencer’s eyes no longer look vacant. He angrily shrugs Rossi’s hands off his shoulders and storms off.
JJ enters breathless from fighting with reporters, “Should we go after him?”
Prentiss, who also just witnessed the altrection replies, “No. Give him a second to breathe.”
“I think we all need a breather,” Alvez adds.
“I just don’t understand how we missed the ex-boyfriend,” Tara pinches the bridge of her nose, letting out a shaky breath.
Garcia nods in agreement, to teary eyed to respond verbally.
“You're right, Tara. Something isn’t adding up,” Emily nods.
Spencer hears their conversation while he storms away, and he agrees. Something is not adding up. That is exactly why he is making is ay to Jill’s room, the only victim who made it out conscious.
He knocks on the door firmly and hears the voice of the familiar detective Dewey telling him to come in.
“I was just telling Jill she made it, that’s all that matters,” he attempts a pitiful smile.
Jill’s back straightens at seeing the professional Spencer Reid. The Spencer Reid who is well acquainted with the cousin she just attempted to kill.
“Trevor and Charlie. They tried to kill me. I heard they killed my Mom. And Robby and Kirby too,” tears fall down the girl's face.
Dewey is quick to comfort the girl, but Spencer looks like he is studying her, absorbing the story.
Jill looks to Dewey, “Is your wife alright?”
Reid can see the relief on the detective's face he can’t help but feel envious.
“She’s gonna be fine. She is recovering,” Dewey sighs.
“If I ever write a book one day. Id… I’d want her to write it with me. We’d be a good team with our matching wounds after all,” she cries.
Dewey smiles at the thought. Yet Spencer’s eyes narrow. It’s very odd to be thinking about making a book about your trauma after just experiencing it. It reminds him of the earlier profile they made for the unsub whose motivator was fame. Yet Garcia did just trace the videos of Gale getting stabbed at the party to the boy Charlie’s computer. Charlie makes sense. He was obsessed with thriller movies; of course, he wanted the fame that comes with being in one. However, Jill’s behavior is really striking him as odd.
“We’re survivors now,” Jill continues. Then she looks Spencer dead in the eyes, “I just wish Y/n could be here. I know she thought the world of you. She always thought you deserved more than her. I hope we can keep in touch, doctor Reid. We can mourn her together.” Tears flood her face as she talks of you. “ At least she and Sid are together now.”
Spencer can’t help but grind his teeth the way she talks about you like you are already gone. He almost wants to laugh at the idea of you thinking he deserves more than you. It does sound like something you would say, but it was the farthest thing from the truth. You are always there for him for everything, but he couldn’t be there for you when you most needed it.
Dewey tries to calm the girl down, “Jill, they aren't sure yet. It’s still touch and go. But Y/n and Sid are both in the ICU. And they think the girls might just make it.”
Spencer notices the change on the girl's face instantly, from sadness to anxiety.
“What! But I saw Trevor kill them,” she gasps.
Dewey looks to Spencer and back to Jill, “Look, we don’t know yet. They could still make it.”
“I wanna see them,” Jill says.
“They arent awake yet. You’ll have to wait,” Spencer steps in.
Dewey nods, “Just get some rest, okay.”
Dewey and Reid leave the room together, leaving Jill alone with her thoughts.
Once in the hallway, Reid asks, “Do you mind if I visit your wife with you? I’d love to ask her some questions.”
Dewey nods, “I don’t see why not. The case is solved now anyway.” He smiles, “though when Y/n wakes up, she might be miffed you visited Gale. Seeing how close you two are. Gale and her mix like oil and water. A couple of years ago, Y/n punched Gale so hard she landed flat on her ass. That was before Gale, and I was married, of course. They remain as civil as they can for my sake now.”
Reid smiles at the story. It seems so unlike you. Letting your emotions rule you. It’s nothing like the Y/n he knew back in Quantico. It’s like he gets to know a whole other you while being in Woodsboro. He loves both versions of you equally. The thought pauses him in his tracks. Love? It’s something he has never said or thought in relation to you. He definitely noticed how attractive you were and had the occasional dream about you more than he would like to admit. But you are his best friend. He would never want to ruin that. You were there for him during the whole jail mix-up. You were there when he mourned Maeve. You were even there for him when the rest of the team didn’t notice his Dilaudid problem, but you did. You truly did know him best. If only he could have been there for you like he had been for him. You have to make it through this. Nearly losing you has hit him so hard. He has realized you are way more than his best friend. He has to thank you and tell you how he really feels.
He looks at Dewey nervously, “You're quite confident. You seem so sure she will wake up. You say when she wakes up, not if.”
Dewey looks to Reid with a knowing smile, “She’s a fighter kid. Always has been.”
Spencer nods with a grim smile. Then they enter Gale’s hospital room together. Dewey walks in and kisses the top of Gale’s head. “How are you doing?”
“Fine. Is Jill gonna be okay?” She asks.
“Yeah. She’s a strong kid,” he sighs.
“She’s gonna have to be,” Gale shakes her head sadly.
Spencer interrupts, “I hope you don’t mind that I came alone with your husband. I actually wanted to talk about Jill.”
“What do you want to know, agent?” She looks to Reid.
“Uh, it’s Doctor, actually,” he awkwardly adds.
Gale's eyes widen in recognition, “Oh, he’s the one Sid said Y/n has a crush on, right?”
Spencer's ears heat up instantly as Dewey hushes his wife. “Sorry! She’s still on some pretty heavy-duty painkillers. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”
Spencer nods awkwardly with a slight flush on his face. “Sure. Right. Anyway. Jill actually mentioned you, Gale. She thinks you two should write a book together with your matching wounds. Do you think that’s odd behavior for her?”
“Why? Was she stabbed in the shoulder to?” Gale squints her eyes in confusion.
“Yes. Did you tell the press about your injuries, Gale?” Reid asks seriously.
She shakes her head, “How did she know I was stabbed in the shoulder?”
Spencer instantly takes off towards your room. Dewey watches Reid run out of the room, confused, then his eyes widen in recognition. No one knew Gale’s injury except Ghostface and the hospital. Dewey screamed, “Shit!” Then quickly followed Reid.
Spencer Reid's world may be falling apart, and it may solely be your fault. He somehow failed to pick up on your entirely made-up last name the whole time he knew you. He missed basic things when cases involved your life. You were screwing up the perfect boy genius’s brain. Filling his data-filled brain with things like love and worry. He should have seen Jill’s inconsistencies, but he was too busy worrying about you back in Woodsboro and your self-destructive tendencies. He knows you can take care of yourself, but he won’t let you deal with anything alone ever again after this.
Spencer was utterly spiraling unbeknownst to you, who was peacefully drugged out and sleeping. Well, that was until grating shouting woke you up. Everything was ten times louder: the beeping of the machines, the dripping of the IV, and the sound of oxygen flowing through the tubes into your nose. Yet nothing was as loud as the girl who just barged into your room.
I open my eyes, slowly blinking a couple of times. Everything seems a bit fuzzy, but I can see my sister in the bed next to mine. Of course, you even share a hospital room with her. When you're sisters, you share everything, even if you don’t want to. However, this is a good time not to be alone as you shift your eyes to the source of the noise. There she is, Jill in all her glory, standing in a hospital gown.
“God, you two just won’t die, will you!” she shouts. “Who are you? Michael Fucking Meyers?”
I watch as she walks towards Sidney. I quickly try to grab my call button with my limited movement, but it is quickly whipped out of my hands.
“I don’t fucking think so,” Jill says as she collects Sidney’s call button as well.
I watch in horror as Jill jumps on top of Sidney and attempts to choke her. “Just fucking die already!”
I managed to get out of bed even with the extreme pain and being hooked up to a bag of blood. Jill was too focused on Sid to notice. I use her distraction to hit her in the back of the head with my IV pole. Sid takes this opportunity to jam her thumb right into Jill’s eye. Even though it is two against one, Jill refuses to give up dragging Sid to the floor with her.
I rip the oxygen cannula out of my nose. I run as fast as I can while being attached to an IV pole to Sid’s side. I try to help Sid, but Jill pulls the tubing attached to me, causing me to fall to the ground. I try to crawl my way to Sid, whose stitches have clearly reopened as she bleeds through her hospital gown. Jill is quick to stop me by shoving her knee directly into my stab wound. I scream so loudly that I am unsure whether the voice is actually mine.
“God, you truly are cockroach Y/n. I guess it’s fucking genetic since Sidney won’t fucking die either!” She screams.
Even though Sid is on the floor with me, she manages to kick Jill’s feet out from under her. Jill groans as she hits the floor. I use the moment to get myself standing again, using the counter for stability. Jill lets out a primal growl as she stands up. She runs at me, shoving me into various medical supplies that are strapped to the wall. I can’t help the sharp groan that escapes my mouth from the impact.
“How are those stitches?” Jill smiles as she punches me directly in my stab wound. I let out another blood-curdling scream, but this does not shake Jill’s resolve. She swiftly grabs me by my hair, causing me to stumble into the glass medical case. I fall heavily to the ground as glass shatters over Sid and me.
I faintly hear Spencer’s voice scream my name. I think it may be a trick from my brain. Some sort of self-preservation, so I don’t give up. So I keep fighting.
Then I hear Dewey’s voice, “Hicks, get up to Sidney Prescott’s room and call for backup!”
I look to the door as it slams open. Spencer is out of breath and looks as pale as a ghost. Before I know it, tears start to spill out of my eyes. I don’t want to die. I want to spend my days watching Doctor Who with him, listening to his random facts that no other human would possibly know, going to the bar with the team, and sneaking away with him because the music got too loud. My story can’t end here. I won’t let it.
Spencer runs to my side and leans down to get a good look at my face. He brushes my blood-stained hair out of my face. I can’t help but notice the tears peaking out of Spencer’s eyes. I feel bad for worrying him so much. I should have trusted my team. I still would have done the same things again if we were being honest. I would rather be the one hurt than my beloved team. Yet I can’t help the apologies that leave my mouth. I sob as I repeat “I’m sorry,” over and over again.
He hushes me and reassures me it’s okay. Dewey gets in the room soon after Reid and he checks on Sid. I am too distracted from Reid and the blood loss, but Sid notices Jill jump out of the closet.
“Dewey,” she screams.
I quickly look up and see Jill hit Dewey over the head with a bedpan. The noise of the bedpan cracking off Dewey’s skull is sickening. He collapses to the ground immediately, blood dripping from his head. Reid is quick but not as fast as Jill, who uses her small size to her advantage. Reid, who is only a few inches away from Dewey, is struck hard with the bedpan. He falls to my side but is still awake. I try to crawl to him, but Jill stands on my hand as she hits Reid over and over again with the bedpan. It was serious overkill. She was clearly loosing it now that her perfect plan had fallen apart. I sob as I watch her continuously hit Reid’s unconscious body.
“Please,” I beg. I know it’s futile, but I need to do something.
She laughs, “Sorry. I know I said I’d keep him alive, but he just had to go and fuck up my plans!” When she looks at my face, her grin widens, “ I guess our nightmares coming true is genetic as well, Y/n.”
Unmasked Chpt 10
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TW- Death/Murder
Word count- 2.8 K
God, I am so stupid. I am literally bleeding out right now! I should not be thinking about this. I should be focused on surviving. I was ready to sacrifice myself for my team, for my family, for Spencer. I am a fucking profiler. I should have seen this coming!
The only reason I was standing was Sid. That was until she was yanked away by Charlie. Without Sid there for stability, I fall roughly to the ground. Jill pays it no mind and walks over me, “Charlie?”
He smiles widely, “Already taken care of. Man, I got great footage of my Robbie kill. Better than Jenny and Marnie or Oliva even.”
I inhale deeply, trying to repress the pain of my stab pain. I refocus my brain on the case instead of the pain. This has always been one of my best skills. Suppress every feeling, every emotion, and hyperfocus on the case, on the facts. Feelings are temporary. Facts are forever. Charlie is your classic sadist who gets off on the kill. I suspected him during the film club. His outright rejection to tell law enforcement where the party was and how intensely he studied the Stab movies. Jill, on the other hand. I never saw this coming. There had never been any family issues other than being related to Sid and me. The team predicted the caller was obsessed with fame and notoriety from the phonecalls. I suspect Jill was the caller because Charlie doesn’t fit the profile. I just can’t figure it out. Jill was a popular girl, had a boyfriend, and a large friend group. Oh God, she helped gut her own friend. Prentiss was right; I never should have been on this case.
“Good. We’ll cut and upload it later, and make it all traceable to Trevor,” Jill demands.
She is planning to frame her ex-boyfriend. The fact that she told us that means she is definitely going to kill us all. I knew my death was planned from the very beginning and that Sid was meant to watch. I just Sid can make it out of this. She has always been better at facing her problems head-on.
The way she is demanding Charlie, she is definitely the dominant one. When killers team up, there is always a submissive and a dominant. If there were two dominants, they would end up butting heads too much and just wind up killing each other. If there were two submissives, they would be found by law enforcement fairly quickly because they are more likely confess. If I could manage to get this information to Sid, perhaps she could make it out by targeting Charlie more. My thoughts are interrupted by Charlie opening the pantry closet.
“Speaking of which…” he throws Jill’s ex-boyfriend out of the closet and onto the ground. His mouth, arms, and legs are heavily duct-taped.
I quickly try to crawl to the teen boy to check if he is injured. Charlie stops me in my tracks when he crouches down to me, waving a bloody knife in my face. He looks to Sid, “Remind you of anything?”
It truly does. They are setting it up to play out exactly like the first time. Jill is the new Sidney, and her ex-boyfriend is the new Billy Loomis. Of course, I get to play the same role… You know, being stabbed. At least this time I wasn’t stabbed in the back multiple times. However, kind of feels like I was stabbed in the back emotionally.
Charlie rips the duct tape off her ex's face, and he begs Jill to spare him.
“Shut up, Dick!” She screams.
My heart drops as I see Charlie get closer to Sid, “Everything I learned. I learned from you.”
Well, they are distracted, yelling at Sid. I slowly crawl farther into the kitchen, hoping to steal the knife from Charlie.
“You think you had a shitty boyfriend, Sidney? Here's one that fucks you, dumps you, and doesn’t even make you famous,” she grimaces at the sight of the boy. Then proceeds to kick him in the ribs. I have never once seen Jill like this. She is an entirely different person from the child I once knew.
He groans in response to Jill, “What the fuck, Jill! I loved you!”
“Shut the fuck up already!” she screams and kicks him more.
I pause instantly when I see Charlie pull out a gun, “I’m sure those cops want you to have this, Jill. For your protection.”
I look closer. Then I see it isn’t just any gun. It’s my gun. Ghostface must have gotten it from Jill’s house when they killed our Jill’s mother, our aunt. That sends shivers up my spine. I left Spencer alone with Ghostface. I think I may be the least rational person on earth. Since I have already screwed most everything up, and I was always meant to die by one of the many Ghostfaces who have tried. I might as well be a little more reckless. I stand swaggering from blood loss, stumbling my way to Jill as Charlie passes her the gun. I stand in front of Sid, and that makes Jill smile. She wiggles the knife that had just stabbed me in my face, but I don’t waver.
Jill fake pouts, “ Truly, you are the saddest thing ever. Willing to die for everyone but no one to die for you. At least Sid got some fame out of this whole thing. What do you have? Trauma and an unrequited crush on a coworker.” Her fake pout returns to a wicked smile, “ Don’t worry, though! I am keeping him alive. The publicity of it all! A renowned genius from the BAU fails to solve a case that is a repeat of the original from the nineties.”
At the mention of ruining Spencer’s life, all sense leaves my brain. Spencer has struggled enough. I should have hidden away as Sid did. Before I know what I am doing, I am diving at Jill. Sid manages to hold me back, which is pretty easy at the moment, given the massive stab wound in my abdomen.
“I can not believe we are even related,” Jill tsks. She returns her focus to her ex-boyfriend, pointing the gun at him as he begs. She simply smiles, “Shouldn’t have killed all those people, Trev. Gone and put it on video, even. But it means a lot that you did it for me.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?!” He screams
“I am not the girl you cheat on!” Jill screams back even louder.
At least I get to know her stressor that unleashed all these horrors again before I die. She was cheated on and wanted fame. Charlie, the sub, was easily talked into the crime due to his sadistic tendencies and Jill’s dominating personality. I watch as Jill points the gun. My gun at this poor, stupid boy’s crotch. Sid has to turn away as she still holds onto my body to keep me from attacking Jill. I can’t help but watch the whole thing. If this is going to be my last case, I have to figure out how to leave clues for the team to solve it. It is getting hard to focus now that my ears are ringing. I can’t tell if it’s from the blood loss or the sound of the gun being fired. Even with my ringing ears, the boy’s screams were still heard. I’ve been on cases before where I have heard victims' screams for help. This feels different, like it will forever be ingrained in my brain. I could have stopped this. It was my gun. Maybe if I fought Sid harder, I could’ve grabbed the gun. I don’t know.
“I’ve gone through everything. We’re definitely good on the timeline,” Charlie speaks up.
Jill’s grin gets even wider, “Oh yeah. We’re perfect.”
I watch in horror as Jill points the gun at the teenager’s head. I instantly struggle against Sid’s grip, trying to stop the chaos. Sid just holds on tighter as she looks away from the scene. I sob in frustration as I watch the bullet go through the poor kid’s head.
“Ready for act three?” Jill points the bloody knife at me.
“Got it figured out yet, Sidney? What about you, Y/n? You’re an FBI agent after all,” Charlie asks, genuinely interested as he drags the deceased away. “In keeping with our remake theme, Trevor’s this generation’s Billy Loomis, and we’re the innocent victims, Sidney and Randy. Not Y/n of course cause everyone thought she was in on it. Can’t have that? Can we?” He pinches my cheek teasingly, making me want to gag.
Jill shakes her head, then points the knife between Sid and me. “See, with you two, the world just heard about what happened. But with us, they’re gonna see it.” During her speech, Charlie shoves his phone in our face, showing the video of the brutal murder of someone I thought was one of Jill’s friends.”It’s gonna be a worldwide sensation. I mean, people gotta see this shit. It’s not like anyone reads anymore. We’re gonna know fame like you never even dreamed of.”
“This time Randy gets the girl,” Charlie grins and kisses Jill.
I stand corrected about my profile. Jill did not convince him due to her dominant personality.
“You were amazing. You’re the perfect victim,” he grins.
This is unbelievable, not only do murderers always seem to find my sister and I but our family is also full of murderers.
Jill turns to look at us with a proud smile, “I was so believable today, wasn’t I? Even your little FBI unit believed me. I mean, I told so many lies that I actually started to believe them. I really think I was born for this!”
“How could you do this?” Sid sobs.
The blood loss was really starting to get to me, but I managed to groan, “ She’s crazy thats how.”
Sid's eyes look more nervous after my statement. I guess she is right, I truly do have a death wish.
Jill simply rolls her eyes, “Do you know what it was like growing up in this family? Related to you? I honestly don’t know how Y/n lives in your shadow without going …” she pauses and looks to me. “How did you put? Oh yeah, I know, crazy. I mean, all I ever heard was Sidney this and Sidney that, and Sidney, Sidney, Sidney.” Jill is really starting to lose it as she points the knife extremely close to Sid. “You were always so fucking special!” Just when I thought she was about to break, a smile returns to her face, and she looks zen. “Well, now I‘m the special.”
I feel utterly disgusting with sweat dripping down my face from trying to suppress the pain. However, I still manage to gasp, “You’ll slip. They always do.
Jill laughs in my face, “Like anyone cares what the side characters who die in the end say.” She turns away, “Come on, Charlie, let’s get on with this.” She points the gun at Sid and me while she gives what looks like a pep talk to Charlie. “You have to be strong. And hold still. OK?”
Charlie starts to jump up and down, “Yeah. Yeah, old-school like Billy and Stu. Come on, babe, get it up. Come on! Shoulder me! Shoulder me! Get it up!”
My eyes widen in shock, and I can't help the gasp that leaves my lips. She stabbed him right in the heart. He grabs his chest out of instinct, but it’s too late.
“The heart! That’s not the way we rehearsed it,” he gasps out in agony.
It’s common for a dominant unsub to dispose of the submissive unsub. It’s one of the first things you learn about unsubs that work in pairs: isolate the submissive unsub, get them to spill the information before the dominant unsub turns on them. Even knowing these basics, seeing my baby cousin do this. It was unreal. I remember I used to change her diaper when she was little. She seemed so pure. The profiler in me should have known better, though. There is never a lone killer during the Ghostface killings. She needs another scapegoat.
“You said it, Charlie. Billy and Stu, Trevor, and you,” I gasp.
Jill smiles, “I guess they do teach you something at that agency. Maybe I’ll pick that agent's brain. Ya know the one you're so anamored with. Anyway. What the media really loves, baby, is a sole survivor. Just ask you know who. Trevor was your partner. But you were the idea man.”
We watch Jill stab him yet again, this time more deeply. He instantly starts to cough up blood, falls to the ground, and convulses with pain.
Sid can’t believe her eyes, shaking her head. “Even your friends.”
Jill tucks the gun into her belt, “My friends? What world are you living in? I don’t need friends. I need fans.” Her calm composure turns back into screaming. “Don’t you get it? This has never been about killing you! It’s about becoming you. I mean, for fuck’s sake, my own mother had to die, no great loss there, so I could stay true to the original. That’s sick, right? Well, sick is the new sane.”
Sidney looks down at me, then back at Jill, “ Y/n didn’t die in the original.”
Sid shakes her head and laughs, “This isn’t the original. This is a remake. We have to up the death count. That’s how it always goes. Plus, she nearly died the first time, so not much of a loss there.” She rolls her eyes, “Stop distracting me! You had your fifteen minutes of fame! Now I want mine! I mean, what am I supposed to do? Go to college? Grad school? Work? Be a boring nobody like Y/n. Look around. We all live in public now; we’re all on the internet. How do you think people become famous anymore? You don’t have to achieve anything! You just gotta have fucked up shit happen to you.” She points the knife at me, “So Y/n has to die…” She then points the knife back at Sid, “And so do you. Those are the rules. New movie, new franchise. There’s only room for one lead, and let’s face it, your young days are over.
She goes in to stab Sid, but with the little strength I have from my previous stab wound, I shove Sid out of the way. I hear Sid scream and look down to see a knife sticking out of my stomach. Jill pulls the knife out, and that's when the pain hits me for the second time as I slowly slide to the ground.
“You’re so predictable, Y/n. Perfect for making a script. Perfect to manipulate. Make everything so much easier. I truly wrote you a great role you don’t deserve. I think I felt bad that you never got your fifteen minutes of fame. Just think, when they make the new stab movie, you sacrifice yourself for your sister, and you still fail. The crowd will be in tears. It’s rather poetic for your life as well, always trying and failing. Failing to be anything like your sister. Failing to not be seen as a freak by your classmates. Even failing at running away. It’s just so sad,” she fake frowns as I take in ragged breaths.
Sid stands in front of me, blocking me from Jill's view, “That’s enough, Jill.”
Jill takes this moment to stab Sid straight through her stomach. I sit helplessly behind her as I watch the knife go entirely through her back and swiftly exit.
Jill shakes her head, “You two are both just so stupid. Come on, Sid, you had to see this coming. Sid collapses right in front of me, and the tears that I had been holding back from the pain finally fall. Once the tears fall, I feel all the pain at once. I can’t stay awake anymore. The last thing I see is Jill’s smile as she holds the knife.
It’s a weird feeling. I think I might be dead. I can’t open my eyes, and I hear lots of shouting. I think my team is here. I recognize Rossi’s voice shouting for a medic. I hear Alvez shouting, “Look, man! You do not want to see her like this!” It sounds like there is a tussle happening, but I can’t open my eyes, let alone move. Lastly, I feel Spencer's familiar hands.
“She’s got a pulse! She’s got a pulse.
Unmasked Chpt 9
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TW- Death/Murder
Word count- 2.6k
Trauma and grief overlap more than one would think. The loss of a loved one commonly causes grief and trauma. Trauma is a unique entity on its own, though. Literally anything can cause you trauma because we all process events differently. Even though trauma doesn’t always have to come with feelings of grief, they both follow a similar timeline: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.
The Prescott life will always be traumatic and full of loss. I am finally ready to accept this fact. Especially seeing my aunt die a mere foot away from me. I have denied the Prescott fate for far too long, from changing my name to working at the BAU. I have felt the anger over the loss of my youth. I bargained with any and all gods in the hope that at least one would hear me and spare me from wretched fate. The depression has not once ceased since I entered back into this horror show of a town. Every place and thing is a reminder of what Sid and I went through. The only thing keeping me from absolutely losing my mind is my coworker, my best friend, Spencer Reid. I had previously let myself dream of us being something more. In fact, it was all I thought about when he was unfairly imprisoned. That if I told him my feelings before the injustice, maybe I could have stopped it. He would have confided in me more, and the whole situation would have never happened. In the end, everything happened for a reason. I can accept my fate without him having to relive the events of Maeve.
My sister is driving at least sixty miles over the speed limit. We would have gotten instantly pulled over if all the cops weren’t at the Stab-a-Thon event. I am sure Spencer has already called the team to let them know of my betrayal. I feel my sister’s gaze periodically bore into me.
“You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?” My sister truly knows me best. She has always had this uncanny ability to read my mind.
“Define stupid,” I shrug.
“Well, you did just ditch your partner and refuse back up.” She looks at me, then puts her focus back on the road.
“Come on! You have been hating on my team the entire time! Now you want them?” I shake my head with frustration.
“Y/n. We just witnessed our aunt die. You and Jill are the only family I have left. I just can’t lose you, too! Okay?” Sid struggles to get the words out as she wipes her face aggressively so her tears don’t obstruct her field of vision.
I take a deep breath, “ I’ll try my best.”
She looks at me, then back to the road. I think we both know I didn’t mean I’ll try my best to stay alive. I’ll do anything to stop the continuous Ghostface copycats. If I have to die, so be it. As long as my Sister, Jill, and my team are fine. Everything will be okay. I might not get the life with Spencer I wanted, but it’s for the better. He will be safer without me. Maybe he would become a professor full-time. I’d like it if he did. Way safer than our current jobs at the BAU. I’ve snooped on his classes a few times, and he truly is an amazing teacher. I couldn’t believe how many students audited his class to just stare at him, though. To be honest, if I were a college student and he were a professor, I would have probably done the same thing. The thought makes me smile. Finally accepting things for the way they are has calmed my racing, mourning heart. Now I am finally ready for the first time in my life to face Ghostface.
We arrive at Jill’s friend’s house in record time due to Sid’s speeding. We quickly run to the front door. I can see the shock is starting to really affect Sid; the tears won’t stop running down her face.
We jump as the door opens before we can even knock. The girls scream in shock when they see us.
“Sidney! Y/n! I am so sorry! I should’ve told you…” Jill quickly apologizes.
Sid is quick to tell her it is okay, and I interrupt her, “We don’t have time. We need you to come with us right now, okay?”
Sid quickly drags Jill out of the house, and I turn to lead us back to the car. Instead of being greeted by nothing, we see the camera boy from the film club drenched in his own blood, struggling to walk.
Jill screams, “Oh my god! Robbie?”
He barely manages to say “run.” After the word leaves his mouth, he collapses face-first on the ground.
Next thing we see is Ghostface running straight at us with a knife. I quickly usher the screaming girls into the house.
I scream, “Go now!”
Quickly, I push everyone up the stairs. Being the one ushering everyone away from Ghostface, I was the last one to go up the stairs. Ghostface attempts to grab my foot and drags me down a couple of steps. Sid screams her childhood nickname for me, pulling at my heartstrings. I make quick work of kicking Ghostface directly in the face. After doing this, I can scramble up the rest of the stairs. I shove the girls into the closest room I can find, and Sid quickly slams the door.
“The balcony,” Jill shouts.
Sid's eyes widen, “There's no other way out!”
I look to Jill, and she says, “We can jump!”
I shove my way out to the balcony and shake my head, “ It’s two stories.”
“Where’s your cell?” She looks at Jill. She quickly hands over the phone as Sid demands, “Get under the bed!”
Jill’s eyes widen, “What?”
“Just do what she says! She is practically an expert on this stuff. You need to trust her,” I whisper-shout.
“Don’t make a sound and don’t come out until I get you,” Sid adds as the door is slowly being broken down.
Jill nods and hastily shoves her body under the bed.
Sid and I make our way to the balcony and shout fake encouragements as if Jill had just escaped from the balcony. We scramble our way onto the roof, telling her to get help. Ghostface makes their way to the balcony and climbs onto the roof with us. Sid freezes in fear. I yank her hand into mine and tug her to run across the roof. Once out of sight of Ghostface, I check all the windows to see if there was unlocked, so we can slip in. While I do this, I can hear Sid calling someone on Jill’s phone.
I continue to check all the windows as I hear Sid yell, “Dewey,” into the phone. “I’m at Kirby’s, the killer is here. I need your help.”
I see her hang up the phone and whisper-shout, “Are you serious? Ghostface is after Dewey as well! You want to get him killed, too?”
“Y/n! We are screwed! We need another person who understands how Ghostface works,” she yells back.
Our fight is interrupted as Ghostface cuts us off from the other side of the roof. My eyes widen in shock as I watch Ghostface dive at Sid with a knife.
“Watch out, Sid,” I scream, but it’s too late.
Ghostface nearly knocks Sidney off the roof, but somehow she manages to hang on to the gutter with one hand. I run from my spot by the window and reach to grab Sid's hand. Ghostface is faster and knocks me flat on my ass. Ghostface runs at me with their knife. I roll on my side to get away from them, but Ghostface uses the opportunity to kick me hard in the ribs. The roof is slightly slanted, so gravity takes its hold on my body. I roll right into Sid, knocking us both off the roof. Luckily, the landing wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. The bushes soften our fall, but leave our hair covered in twigs and leaves.
We scrambled to get up as fast as possible to run back in the house to save Jill. I walk backwards to keep my eye on the door, and Sid walks forward. Sid yelps, jumping me. I get into a defensive pose, quickly turning to see Jill’s friend Kirby.
“Hey, it’s just me,” she soothes. “I tried to call nine-one-one, but the landline’s dead, and someone smashed the router.”
“I think I got through on my cell,” Sid breathes.
I pinch my nose at the thought of more unprepared people arriving.
Kirby’s eyes widen, “Where’s Jill?”
All of us are swiftly interrupted by the loud, heavy footsteps of Ghostface. Kirby grabs both Sid and me, herding us into the basement.
“There's a room down here. We can lock ourselves in,” she whispers as we descend the basement stairs. “I heard you both yelling at Jill. Did she get away?”
“I think she’s safe,” Sid says.
I look at Sid, questioning her slinking away from the full truth. Though her mind is definitely in the right place, you can’t trust anyone during a Ghostface case. Kirby pulls us into a room with locks in the basement. We all jump when we hear banging on the windows. We look out at the sliding glass basement doors that show the president of the film club outside.
“Kirby, let me in!” he screams.
“Charlie?” She says in shock.
We get closer to the door and notice his hand is stained with blood. He is quick to defend himself, “No, no, no! I just found Robbie. This is his blood. Please! Please! There is someone else out here! Let me in!”
I take a deep breath, “If you can’t trust him, don’t open the door.”
Charlie starts pounding on the door more, “Oh my god! Let me in!”
Kirby’s face is stern, “Get away from the door, Charlie.”
The pounding on the door gets more erratic, “Kirby, it's me. Please let me in!”
Kirby shouts this time, “Get away from the door, Charlie!”
“It’s me,” he shouts again.
Kirby starts to sob, “I’m sorry I can’t.”
“What the fuck!?” He yells.
“I’m so sorry,” she frowns.
My eyes widen in shock as I see Ghostface appear behind him. I go to grab my gun out of my holster as Sid screams, “Look out!”
“Behind you,” Kirby warns.
When I blindly reached for my gun in my holster, I didn’t see it. I look down to see my empty holster on my belt. Then it hits me, I left my gun at Aunt Kate’s house during all the chaos, I dropped it.
“Shit,” I mutter.
Sidney turns to me and sees my empty holster, “Are you serious? You want to die, don’t you!”
“Now is not the time for this,” I shout.
Before we know it, Charlie’s head is being smashed over and over again against the glass pane door. Blood streaks the window as he screams, but Ghostface continues and drags him away. We all press our faces to the glass as we watch in horror as Charlie gets dragged away. The last thing we hear him shout is Kirby as the power is cut to the house.
We are all left breathing raggedly due to the panic. A few moments later, the lights turn back on, and we see Charlie duct-taped to a chair.
Kirby pounds on the door, “Leave him alone!”
He looks up at us with wide eyes and a duct-taped mouth.
“Kirby, you have to calm down. The unsub gets off on attention.” I direct her attention to me.
Sid rolls her eyes, “Now is not the time for agent talk. Actually, the agent shouldn’t talk at all. What agent forgets her gun?”
I pull my hair, “Oh my god, Sid. Now is not the time to berate your little sister either.”
“I don’t know might be the last time I get to! Since she has a death wish!” Sidney glares at me.
A phone ringing breaks up our fighting.
Kirby pulls out her phone, “It’s Charlie’s phone.” She picks it up, and we hear that all too familiar voice of Ghostface.
“Hate to break that beautiful sister bonding moment, but I need you tell Sidney that heads are gonna roll tonight. Tell Sidney it’s all because of her. Or maybe she wants to take his place. Maybe volunteer baby sister instead, since they seem to be on the outs. I promise to be quick,” the voice manages to sound like it’s grinning despite using a voice changer.
“I’m gonna get Jill, we should all be in the same place. I’ll be right back,” she soothes Kirby. Then she looks to me, “You stay with her.”
“No way! I will not let you lose your life because of your damn savior complex,” I shout.
“Takes one to know one,” she responds. “You literally ran away from Woodsboro and became an agent to satiate your savior complex.”
I grind my teeth. We haven’t been the same since I became an agent. We just don’t talk about feelings in this family. Unless we are about to be murder apparently.
“You know what, Y/n, do come with me. I don’t want Kirby to witness you sacrificing yourself,” she grimaces.
Kirby looks between us anxiously as Sid pulls me out of the room. Sid and I sneak around the hallway. I quietly grab the sharpest knife I can find while we are in the kitchen. I sneak up the stairs first, holding the knife tight as Sid follows behind me.
Sid is the first one to run and check under the bed. She quietly whispers Jill’s name to no response. We can’t find her anywhere in the room, so I gesture for Sid to follow me back downstairs.
When we get back to the top of the stairs, we hear footsteps. Sid quietly calls out Kirby's name. I try to peer around the wall of the stairs to get a better look. I suddenly hear Sid gasp, causing me to quickly turn. I am greeted by the sight of the boy who was previously duct taped to a chair, holding a knife to my sister's throat.
“So much for being a big hotshot FBI agent. Am I right, Y/n? Once a cockroach, always a cockroach. Now drop the knife before I gut Sidney like a fish,” he smiles.
I drop the knife on the wood floor. It loudly clatters as it bounces off the floor a few times.
His smile gets even wider, “Perfect! You know, you learn when you watch movies over and over, and all the plots are about trying to kill you.” He digs the knife into my sister's throat a little more, “Where’s Jill?”
“She already got away,” I tell the bald-faced lie a little too perfectly.
“You think she’s gonna get away? You think anyone gets away?” He shouts in Sid’s face.
Sid suddenly pushes him backwards into the wall, causing him to fall and let her go. I quickly help Sid stand up and rush her towards the front door. Ghostface jumps in front of us before we can manage to get out the door. Ghostface runs at me so fast I can barely process it. I don’t realize I’ve been stabbed until Ghostface retracts the knife. I gasp and fall backwards into Sid.
She cradles me as she whispers no over and over again. I can feel her tears splosh on my face. Ghostface gets even closer to us, and Sid pulls me away from them. Ghostface slips their mask off with a huge grin. Sid and I both gasp, “Jill?”
“Hello, cousins. Surprised?” She grins.”This is the part, my dear cousins, when the cameras… turn off.” She says as she pulls a tiny camera out of her Ghostface mask and shuts it off.
Unmasked Chpt 8
AO3, Etsy Shop, Youtube,
Unmasked Masterlist
ENTIRE WORKS MASTERLIST
Taglist- @bunbunbl0gs @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy
TW- Death/Murder
Word count- 2.3k
After a very awkward car ride with Sid, we arrive at our aunt and our cousin’s home. I wave hello to the cops patrolling for Ghost Face and enter the house with Sid. In the house, we find a very melancholic Jill staring out the window.
“I feel like I’m under house arrest,” she growls.
She storms off into the kitchen, and Sid quickly follows her. I continue to stare out the window. I see the team van pull up. I see Alvez is driving, and Spencer is in the passenger seat. Garcia is probably in the back of the van doing her techno wizard magic since Alvez is driving. The two of them work really well together. I push the curtains back in front of the window and make my way to the kitchen.
“I could never handle that kind of attention. I just… feel like it would take over your life. I can understand why Y/n just disappeared,” I overheard Jill talking to Sid.
I probably shouldn’t have continued to eavesdrop since it was about me, but I couldn’t help myself.
Sid sighs, “Y/n hasn’t really ever been good at processing her feelings. What I do is I… I try not to think about myself. I have people I care about, and I focus on them. Y/n may think I’m overbearing, but that’s the way I cope.”
I smile. My sister may be judgmental, but she always comes from the right place.
“You, Y/n, and that agent with her really saved my life last night. I need to thank both of them as well as you. I mean, I know we are family, but you two hardly know me. It makes me wonder, you know. If I had been brave enough to do the same thing.”
I decided I had been eavesdropping for far too long and entered the room, “Of course you would! You have Prescott blood coursing through your veins.” I give her a side hug and mess up her hair.
Sid smiles, “I’d prefer she never have to find that out.”
“Of course. Of course. See, that’s why Sid is the smart novelist, and I’m the brolic agent,” I flex my muscles, making Jill and Sid laugh.
Jill’s frown returns, “Well, if you need me, I’ll be up in my cell. I mean, my room.”
I swear I see a shadow in the window, but I am distracted by the sound of the door opening. Sid's eyes widen, and she looks to me. I place my hand on my gun holster, ready to check the perimeter. I turn the corner only to bump right into Spencer.
He raises his hands, “Hey, it's okay. It’s only me.”
I let out a sigh of relief as Sid mumbles under her breath, “yeah cause a murderer being on the loose is okay.”
I shoot her a dirty look and hope Spencer didn’t hear her rude comments.
“Garcia found the location for the Stab movie marathon. Prentiss, Tara, and Rossi are on their way there now. Garcia and Alvez are out in the van doing surveillance,” Spencer informs us.
“Shouldn’t you be out in the van with them then?” Sidney says suspiciously.
“I told you I’d keep Y/n safe, that’s what I’m doing,” he says like its the most obvious thing in the world.
Sid shakes her head, but actually smiles, so that must mean something.
“I’m going to make some tea. Do you want some agent?” she looks to Reid.” Or should I call you Spencer and make heart eyes at you like my dear sister?”
I can feel my body temperature rise from embarrassment. I choose to ignore her teasing and correct her, “He actually prefers doctor, not agent.”
My sister simply laughed at my stuttering, “Okay, doctor it is.”
Spencer accepts Sid’s offer of tea, and it upsets me that he is not a stuttering mess like I am. However, if you looked close enough, you could see the tips of his ears where hot crimson. It makes me feel better that I am not entirely alone in my embarrassment. It just happens to show on my face more than it does his. Spencer and Sidney in the same room is the worst combination for my anxiety.
Sid and I jump when Spencer's phone rings.
He looks at us sympathetically and puts his phone on speaker. “Dr. Reid speaking.”
“Hey, Reid, it’s Alvez. Garcia and I have to leave house surveillance to the local police. Prentiss needs Garcia’s help. There was a stabbing at the movie marathon, Ghostface was spotted, and several security cameras were at the scene. You good?”
“Yeah. L/n and I have the house covered. You go check out the scene,” he responds.
I interrupt, “Any casualties?”
“Not yet. Ambulance at the scene. I’ll keep you updated.” Alvez responds.
“Thanks, I appreciate it,” I nod.
“No, prob,” he says before he hangs up.
The conversation is interrupted by a weird noise outside. Sidney instantly makes her way to the door to check it out.
I put my arm in front of her, “Let me check.”
Spencer is quick to follow me out on the porch.
I sigh when I find the wind chimes on the ground, “Looks like the wind just knocked the chimes down. This case has me far too on edge.”
“This case has everyone on edge. I’m worried. I mean, the team is worried about you,” Spencer replies.
I smile, “Well, you know the saying, the fourth time's the charm.”
Spencer shakes his head, “The proverb is actually third time’s a charm. It comes from the ancient belief that good things come in the set of three due to their similarity with the Holy Trinity of Christianity.”
“I was trying to ease your anxiety,” I grin. “I guess it didn’t work,” I awkwardly brush my arm.
“I’m never anxious when I am with you,” he says sincerely.
I have to look away to hide the redness of my face. I put the wind chime back on the table, “Come on, let’s head back inside.” After coming back in, I double-check the locks and return to Sid.
“Everything fine?” she asks.
“Yeah, just some stupid wind chimes,” I sigh.
As soon as I said that, the wind chimes rang again after I had just put them on a table outside. Sidney looks out the glass door only to be jumped by a pound at the window. I swear my heart flew out of my chest as Spencer instantly reached for his gun.
“Sorry! The wind chimes were over here,” I instantly recognized the voice as my aunt's.
I put my hand on Spencer’s that was still resting on his holster to signal him it was okay.
Sid opens the door, “That was Y/n. They fell off their hook. I’m sorry.”
Our aunt enters unbothered by the unknown presence of Spencer, “I just got back from the store.” She says as she hauls tons of bags in.
My eyes narrow, “You’re shopping?”
“My stress reliever. I’ve got one more bag in the car. I'll be right back,” she says nonchalantly. Before I can even stop her, she is out the door, going back to the car in the dark.
Sid shakes her head and goes to unpack the bags our aunt brought in.
Spencer joins her in unpacking, “Does your entire family have no sense of danger?”
Sid smiles, “Yeah. But hey its not our fault, danger follows us everywhere. We get used to it.”
We are interrupted from the fun banter by the ringing of the home phone. Sidney remains calm and yells up to Jill, “Jill! Are you going to get that?”
With no response from Jill, I watch Sid pick up the phone.
Clear as day, I hear Ghostface's voice over the phone, “You're a survior Sid. Your one and only skill. You survive.”
Sid quickly looks around, and I motion frantically for her to pass me the phone. Spencer witnesses the scene and pulls out his gun to start doing a perimeter on the house. Sid reluctantly passes me the phone.
“Where are you?” I ask as I join Spencer in searching the perimeter inside the house.
“Oh, if it isn’t my favorite cockroach. I find you, nearly kill you, you survive despite the odds, everyone finds that suspicious, change your name, move, and repeat the process. I have a question? Is it truly a drama if you continue to repeat the same story? Now hand the phone back to the star,” the robotic voice says.
Spencer is distracted by the phone call; he keeps looking at me instead of sufficiently clearing the room.
I reluctantly hand the phone back to Sid, who screams into the phone, “Who are you!”
“No. No. No. Sid, I have a question for you, too. What’s it good to be a survivor in this little drama, if everyone around you is dead? Now, do me a favor and turn on channel six.” The ambiguous voice sounds delighted.
I quickly fumble for the TV remote and jump a little when Sid screams into the phone, “Who the fuck are you?!”
“Turn it on. Watch a teaser,” even with the voice changer, it sounds like the person is smiling when they speak.
After fumbling with the remote for a couple of minutes, the news finally comes on. Spencer has finished clearing the downstairs and pauses in front of the tv. Displayed at the bottom of the screen is breaking news in all capitals. The text reads Woodsboro Sheriff’s wife in hospital in serious condition after stabbing.
The news caster instantly starts to speak as I get the TV on, “ local event nearly turned deadly tonight with the latest victims of these attacks being the wife of the Woodsboro sheriff, Gale Riley, aka Gale Weathers, who’s in serious condition tonight after being stabbed. Her assailant then disappeared in a sea-”
The news caster is quickly cut off as Sidney rips the remote out of my hand and shuts the TV off. Ghostface's laughter only gets louder on the phone during the commotion.
“Glad you came hom Sidney? Has it been worth it yet?” Ghostface taunts.
“Why are you doing this?” Sid shouts back.
“Sid, just hang up! Please,” I beg her.
The assailant on the phone just laughs, “Shut it, roach! Friends count, but it’s the family ties that cut deep. Am I right?”
My eyes widen, “Reid, check on Jill!”
“What do you mean?” Sid asks.
“The ones you care about most. And what’s closer than family? The bond of blood. Your sister said it best earlier. The strength of Prescott blood,” the mechanical voice still sounds like it’s smiling.
It sends shivers down my spine, especially knowing that was a private conversation between me, Sid, and Jill.
“Don’t,” Sid practically begs.
“You can’t save them. All you can do is watch. That’s your job as the star, the role you were born to play,” Ghostface breaks into a fit of laughter as Sid throws the phone.
I follow Sid as she runs up the stars screaming Jill’s name. Spencer was already in her room because I sent him up there earlier.
He frowns when he sees our worried faces and turns Jill’s computer around so we can see it. There is a text chain on the screen with Kirby. The girl we all met at the cinema club was Jill’s friend. The first text is from Jill that reads, “My mom is driving me crazy! Come pick me up.”
The next text is a reply from Kirby that she is on her way.
Sid quickly runs down the stairs, yelling for our Aunt, “Jill’s not in her room!”
“Oh, my god,” our Aunt exclaims.
I take a deep breath, “Everyone needs to calm down. Shes at her friend Kirby.” I look to my Aunt, “You need to call her immediately.”
Our aunt nods quickly, pulling her cellphone out. My heart drops when we all hear her phone go instantly to voicemail.
Jill’s mother panics, “She’s not picking up. What’s going on?”
Sid frowns as words fall out of her mouth like vomit, “The killer called. He’s coming after me, but he wants my family first.”
“Oh, God, Jill!” she cries.
Spencer looks at my distressed family but remains calm, “I’ll get the cops.”
“The cops aren’t there,” our aunt says, confused.
My eyes widen, “What do you mean they aren’t there! They were supposed to do security detail all night!”
“They were there when I first came in, but they’re not there now,” she responds seriously.
“We need to call for backup,” Spencer asserts.
“There is no time! We have to get to Kirby's now,” I run to the door and open it, only to be met with the reflection of Ghostface in the wind chimes. I quickly slam the door shut, “Everyone, front door now!”
Spencer quickly pulls out his gun and escorts my family to the front of the house, guarding their backs. Sid and Aunt Kate run to the front door as Spencer and I keep our guns raised. Sid rips the front door open, only to be met face to face with Ghostface. There is no way I could get a good shot with Sid and Aunt Kate in front of the door. I don’t understand how Ghostface could have possibly made it to the front of the house already.
Sid quickly tries to slam the door, but Ghostface has a hand already through the door, wildly swinging a knife.
“Try to push the door shut from the bottom,” Sid yells to Aunt Kate.
I drop my gun because it is utterly useless in this situation with too many possible casualties. I shoulder check the door, crushing Ghostface's wrist, giving Sid the opportunity to fully shut the door.
Spencer, still holding his gun, shouts, “We need to get you all to a safe house!”
I grab his free hand, “Now is not the time, we have to save Jill, now come on!”
I drag Spencer back towards the back door with Sid following us.
“Come on, Kate,” Sid looks back whisper shouting.
I turn back to look at Kate, and she is still seated pressed against the bottom of the door. She has turned extremely pale, which could be attributed to the fight or flight mechanism in our brain currently firing off. However, I sense something else is seriously wrong.
Sid runs to her before I do, crouching down to her level. I call out to Sid to wait, but it’s too late as our Aunt coughs up blood onto her. Aunt Kate quickly falls forward onto Sid as a knife retracts from her back, and Ghostface’s hand retreats from the mailbox slot in the door.
I feel pure rage. I try to go out the door after Ghostface to kill him myself, but Spencer holds me back, “Y/n, we need to leave now!”
Sid holds onto our dying aunt as she says, “Tell Jill I’m sorry.”
Sid can’t stop repeating no over and over again. She manages to check Kate’s pulse during her breakdown, and she shakes her head. Crying, she grabs the keys out of our lifeless aunt's hand.
She looks at me, determined, “Let’s go now!”
We run to the back door as Spencer covers our backs. I can still see Ghostface running outside the window.
Sid is the first out the door, and she runs straight into a local police officer, “Officer Hicks! What are you doing here?”
“I just saw somebody coming around the side of the house. Where are Hoss and Perkins? I couldn’t get them on the radio.” Her eyes are wide and frantic. She looks over to Spencer and me, but her eyes land on Sid, “Whose blood is that?”
Sid, still teary-eyed, responds, “It’s Kate’s. We were just attacked. She’s dead.”
“Where is she?” The cop quickly asks.
“Front door,” I respond sadly.
The cop looks at me and Spencer suspiciously. That’s the thing with small towns. They never trust outsiders… especially in situations such as this. “Show me,” she demands.
Sid quickly leads officer hicks into the home and shows her our aunt. She leans down to check her pulse, “ This is Deputy Hicks. I’ve got a homicide at the Roberts residence. No sign of Perkins or Hoss.”
While this is going on, I whisper to Sid, “We don’t have time for this. We have to find Jill.”
I can feel Spencer’s judgey gaze for me, bringing up going without backup again, but I ignore it. Sid nods, grabs my hand, and leads me out the back door. Spencer shakes his head but begrudgingly follows.
I quickly jump into the passenger seat, and Sid jumps into the driver's seat. Spencer goes to open the back door of the car, but finds it locked.
His face hardens as I roll down the window. “I am so sorry I have to do this without you. I can’t lose you again. You saw what happened to my aunt.”
Spencer shakes his head like he can’t believe this is happening, “Y/n, I am begging you not to do this. I can’t lose you either!”
Any other time this would have made me swoon, but I am tired of losing everyone I love. If I have to die so my loved ones can live, so be it.
I shake my head, my eyes full of tears, “I’m so sorry, Spencer.”
I quickly roll up the window and look over to my sister, “gun it.”
She looks at me with pity but puts the car into drive and speeds out of there.
The last thing I hear from Spencer as we drive away is him screaming damnit as he violently runs his hands through his beautiful curls.
Unmasked Chpt 7
AO3, Etsy Shop, Youtube,
Unmasked Masterlist
ENTIRE WORKS MASTERLIST
Taglist- @bunbunbl0gs @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy
A/N- YALL! I am aware it has been over a year since I last continued this, but I decided I have to finally finish this before I start anymore fics.
TW- Bullying, PTSD, Blood
Word Count- 3.5 k
The hideous sound of my alarm wakes me from my sleep. I blindly attempt to roll over to snooze the damn thing, but something is holding me down. I have to force myself to open my eyes as my body fights against waking up. When I finally manage to open my eyes, I am met face to face with Spencer’s sleeping form holding me. I think my eyes may bulge out of my head from shock. My body instinctively flinches backwards, nearly sending me off the bed. The only thing preventing me from falling off said bed was Spencer’s tightening grip. How had I not woken him up? I seriously did not expect him to be such a deep sleeper. Especially with my alarm still blaring in the background.
It takes a moment for my sleepy brain to remember him busting down my hotel room door due to my nightmare-induced screams. I cringe as I remember sobbing in front of him. God, I never cry in front of anyone. Of all people, I had to cry in front of Spencer. The universe has a sick sense of humor. Doesn’t it? Then my memories become even more cringeworthy when I recall asking him to stay. I accidentally groan out loud, and of course, THAT’S what wakes Spencer up.
I can see his eyes shoot open in shock at seeing my face so close. Yet the first thing out of his mouth is, “Are you okay?”
I nod awkwardly and bite my lip to prevent myself from saying anything else stupid.
After my response, Spencer seems to notice his position and quickly removes his arms. The sudden absence of his warmth embarrassingly made me shiver. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice. At least it finally gave me the opportunity to shut off that dreadful alarm.
“I am so sorry, Y/n, I must have accidentally fallen asleep here after last night!” He awkwardly explains.
“No, no. It’s fine! I am the one who asked you to stay afterall,” the words fall out of my mouth. Oh god why did I have to remind him I said that?
Spencer seems to enjoy my nervous babbling and smiles. He looks at the time on the hotel alarm clock, “We need to get ready, so you have time to eat. As they say, breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Even though the saying comes from a marketing scheme by Kellogg's to sell more cereal in nineteen-seventeen, it still rings true. Studies show that eating breakfast significantly improves attention span, executive function, and memory.”
Who knew one could make infodumping look hot, but Spencer does it seamlessly. So seamlessly, in fact, I can’t suppress the smile on my face.
“I will keep that in my mind, Spencer,” I smile as I bid him a farewell to get ready.
After showering and getting ready for the day, I make my way down to the hotel’s continental breakfast. The rest of the team is already there, sipping their coffee, going over old Ghostface case files. The team's eyes light up too much when they see me; it makes me nervous.
Emily slyly sips her coffee as she says, “ Thanks for making me share a bed with JJ. Next time, leave a sock on the door.”
I try to compose myself to assert it was not what they think, but I am quickly interrupted by Garcia.
“Be glad she didn’t leave a sock on the door,” Garcia grins wickedly. “ Or else we wouldn’t have these,” Garcia pulls out a wide variety of printed photos of Reid in I in bed.
My jaw dropped open so fast I must have looked like a floundering fish.
JJ looked genuinely impressed. “Garcia, how on earth did you get these printed so fast?”
“I know a guy,” Garcia simply winked.
I pinch my nose and shake my head. It is far too early for this. As if the moment can’t get any worse, Spencer appears behind me. The team's grins somehow defy human anatomy and get even wider.
Instead of becoming a flustered mess like me and setting the record straight, Spencer does the unthinkable.
“Garcia, can I get a copy of those?” He points to the photos splayed out in front of Garcia.
Garcia turns into a fit of giggles, “Of course you can, boy genius! I have enough copies for everyone!”
I swear this entire team consists only of mentally unwell people. I manage to compose myself because I truly don’t have time for the team's teasing. I especially don’t have the time to consider if Spencer actually has feelings for me or is just getting in on the team's teasing. I make a cup of coffee to go and get prepared to leave.
“I have to go to the high school to gather more intel about the case,” I simply state.
Prentiss face straightens as she goes back into work mode. “L/n, are you sure that is a good idea? Going over some Ghost Face files, I found your high school records. I am sorry, but I had to go through them as they pertain to the case. You don’t have to go back there. We can send someone else on the team.”
I attempt to suppress my rage, but it still leaks out, “Prentiss, you had no right to go through my records. They have nothing to do with this, and I could have told you that if you asked!”
“L/n, you know we have to treat this like any other case. You should be grateful you're still on the case after you attempted to solve it on your own,” she states back as if this were a normal thing.
I swallow my words and anger, simply nodding. I turn my back on the team and make my way outside. Planning to walk off this anger on the way to the high school. Even after the outburst, I can feel Spencer’s familiar presence following me. He catches up to me, but lets me stew on my anger for a little while we walk.
He finally breaks the silence about halfway through the walk, “ I take it the high school records have to do with nightmares…”
I silently nod.
“You don’t have to tell me about it as long as you tell someone. Even writing about it can be helpful. It’s called WET, short for writing exposure therapy.”
I roll my eyes, “You’re one to talk. You barely got cleared to come back to the BAU. You still aren’t full-time.”
Spencer awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, “ I suppose you are right. We are two broken peas in a pod.”
I instantly feel bad for what I said, “I’m sorry, Spencer. You didn’t deserve that.”
“It’s okay, we all lash out sometimes. Especially when in difficult situations,” he says with kindness, I don’t deserve.
“I just feel so stupid. I mean, I face murderers every day. Yet I am scared of a bunch of high school girls. I mean, who doesn’t get a couple of toilet swirlies when they are in high school?” Spencer looks at me with those profiling eyes, and I can tell he knows I am not telling the full story.
“Okay, it was a little bit more than that. I really hope Emily didn’t see the photos in my file,” I start ripping the skin around my nails.
Spencer takes hold of my hands before I can do too much damage. He stops walking and looks into my eyes, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I respect you and can tell this is hard for you.”
I swallow and tighten my eyes to prevent tears from falling, “No, I want to tell you. I am tired of just the local police knowing. I haven’t even told my sister.” I take a deep breath, “Nobody believed I could have survived Billy and Stu's attack. People older and stronger than me died, yet I just got off with some stab wounds and a week-long coma. Everyone was obsessed with the theory that I somehow helped. I couldn’t tell Sid about how hard it was in high school; she had finally made it out. Living the good life in college. I could take the insults, those were child's play compared to what Stu and Billy did. Well, that was until insults turned physical. It went from ghost face masks in my locker to nearly being drowned in the girls' restroom toilet.”
Spencer's eyes softened, and it looked like he was going to say something, but I stopped him, “You know me, never willing to go down without a fight. I smashed head on the ceramic toilet, and you know, head wounds bleed the most, so I got blood like all over those girls. You should have seen their faces! I even managed to get a few hits on them.” I frown, “sadly, there was only one of me and like ten of them. They got the jump on me, held me down, and shoved a ghost face mask on my bleeding head. I ended up passing out due to the blood loss. A teacher found me on the floor with the bloody ghost mask and assumed the worst, and called the police. I refused to tell anyone what happened. The police were required to take photos of the incident for the report. I hate knowing there are photos of me in a bloody ghost face mask.”
I didn’t want to cry, but I couldn’t help it. This is the second time I have cried in front of someone, and of course, it always has to be in front of Spencer. I turn to hide my face from him, but he gently grabs my cheek and wipes my tears away with his thumb.
“I’m here for you now. You don’t have to go through all this alone.” He says with intensity as he looks directly into my eyes.
I lightly smile, “Thank you.” I place my hand on top of his and force myself to remove it even though I do not want to. “Come on, we are going to be late.”
The rest of the walk was filled with peaceful silence. It was actually very helpful talking about it. I feel I will be able to go back to Woodsboro High as long as Spencer is by my side.
We flash our badges to enter the school and walk to the classroom Sid told us to meet her in. The classroom is plastered with classic horror movie posters. Including the stupid Stab movies based on Sid and our mutual trauma. As I enter the room, I feel Sid’s gaze on me instantly. I can tell she is judging me for bringing Spencer along, but she never specified I had to come alone.
I take a seat next to her, and Spencer pulls up a chair to join us. Sid looks back and forth between us, “Really?”
“What,” I sigh.
“You know better,” she says seriously. Then she whispers, “ Mark nearly died saving my life last time, and he was a detective. Everyone around us gets hurt. You can’t run from it forever.”
I bite my tongue to keep from saying anything harsh. To be honest, what could I even say to her? She’s right. Reid probably heard the whole thing as well because Sid has never been that great at whispering.
One of the students interrupts Sid and me, bickering by announcing, “Ok, Cinema Club. We are now in session. Welcome. Tell you a little bit about ourselves. We are a sanctioned after-school activity, one rung below Glee Club, two above Nintendo Wii Fit. And let me just say to our guests, Sidney Prescott and Y/n Prescott, it’s an honor.”
The students who have gathered in the classroom applaud. Sid awkwardly stands up, but I remain in my seat.
The student continues speaking after the applause dies down, “Beyond Jamie Lee Curtis, forget Linda Blair, I mean, this is the ultimate.”
Sid returns to sitting, “Thanks. I guess.”
I ignore the students entirely and point to the camera on one of the students' heads. “You film your entire high school experience, and what post it on the internet?”
“Everyone will be doing it someday in the future,” he simply responds. I can’t help but think of how Garcia would admire his tech.
The head of the club, who previously did the introduction, interrupts, “It’s kind of the one component the killer is missing.”
Reid instantly gets interested in a weird statement like that, “What do you mean by that?”
“Well, if you wanna be the new-new version. The killer should be filming the murders,” he says as if this is a common line of thought.
Then the student with the camera on his head chimes in, “Yeah, it’s the natural next step in a psycho slasher innovation. I mean, you film them all in real time, and then before you get caught, you upload them into cyberspace.”
The head of the club speaks again, “Making your art as immortal as you.”
I scan the rest of the club to gauge the audience's reaction to see if this is how they usually talk. I can’t help but notice my niece’s ex-boyfriend in the crowd, whom I met last night. That bore a strikingly similar attitude to Billy Loomis. I make a reminder to myself in my head to bring that up with Spencer later.
The two students who were speaking quickly backtracked and spoke at the same time, “Not to implicate me.”
“So who do you think is behind the murders?” Gale speaks. Ugh, I forgot she was here. I don’t know how Sidney forgave her.
“Well, it’s a Stab fanatic clearly,” says the leader of the club. “Working on less of a shriekquel and more of a scream-make.”
“Copyrighted terms, by the way,” the student with the camera on his head adds.
“Cause all there are now are remakes. Only horror the studios green-light. I mean, there are still rules…” the head of the club continues.
Sid and I get distracted as a student at a table over starts trying to gain our attention. I recognize her as one of Jill’s friends. She holds up her phone, showing the live feed of the student’s camera. On her phone shows exactly who I noticed earlier, Jill’s ex-boyfriend.
The head of the club continues with his speech, “The unexpected is the new cliché.”
“Yeah, you gotta have an opening sequence that blows the doors off, dial up some flashy music-video direction, and the kills gotta be way more extreme,” the camera student adds as I internally cringe. How can someone be so obsessed with these Stab movies?
“Modern audiences get savvy to the rules of the originals, so the reversals become the new standard. In fact, the only surefire way to survive a modern horror movie? You pretty much have to be gay,” the president of the club continues as the crowd giggles.
I roll my eyes, “So why are you so sure the killer’s working by the rules of a horror remake?”
“The original Stab structure is pretty apparent,” the camera student answers.
“Yeah, two kids killed in a house when their parents are away…” adds the president.
“And then the school’s hot chick was savaged beyond recognition,” continues the camera student.
“We all know where it goes from there,” gestures the film club president.
“A party,” I groan.
The leader smiles, “Exactly! A party. Guaranteed third-act main cast bloodbath.”
Spencer grabs my hand under the table and gently squeezes assumingly due to the words of the student.
The student with the camera on his head joins the president back on the front of the classroom with his fingers crossed and says, “Fingers crossed for some nudity this time.”
I can see Spencer grinding his teeth. He honestly looks more upset than I do. I do not know how he is managing that.
Gale ignores the comment and strides to the front of the classroom. “Okay, so do you know of a party that’s happening tonight?”
“Well ther is Stab-a-Thon,” the club president mutters.
I stand and question, “Stab-a-Thon?”
“It’s a movie marathon. All seven Stabs back-to-back. We do it every year,” he replies.
Why anyone would subject themselves to those seven movies all at once is beyond me. I think it short-circuited my brain because I have to pause to think about it.
Luckily, Spencer jumps in, “And it’s tonight? There’s a killer out there patterning his murders after the original movie. ”
“I know. It’s pretty wild,” the club president smiles. It looks like Spencer and Sid might punch him.
“You have to cancel it,” Spencer says matter-of-factly.
The student with the camera acts as if Spencer has just said the craziest thing, “Okay? I mean, it’s Friday. I’m sure we’re not the only party that’s going on in Woodsboro.”
Gale is quick to jump in, “Okay, where is this circle jerk gonna take place?”
The club president simply ignores Gale, which would be funny if the situation weren’t dire. He looks to the crowd of students, “So who is ready for the QnA?”
“No, no. I really want the location,” Gale continues.
“You know, it’s kind of an underground thing. Email invites, pretty secret,” the student replies.
Gale laughs, “What you aren’t gonna tell me? Really? We’re working together. Remember?”
The student ignores her again and says, “So are you ready for that QnA?”
“Fuck you. Let’s go,” Gale says. I should be shocked that she talked to a teenager like that, but given her personality, I’m really not.
We all gather our stuff and ditch the QnA. Gale storms out of the school building, seething. I swear I can see smoke coming out of her ears.
“She’s always had quite a temper,” I whisper to Reid. “I slapped her once. Wish you could have seen it.”
He smirked, “Me too. If Rossi were there, he totally would have started a betting pool of who would win the fight. My money would be on you, of course.”
I can’t help the giggle that makes its way out of my mouth, and of course, Sid has to pass by just in time to hear it.
“Seems like you and your team are being very productive out here,” she says sarcastically.
I instantly straighten my spine under her judgmental gaze. “I’ll call our tech person, Garcia, and have her track the boy's location through the live stream. We can find the location of the party that way.”
She nods, “We should check in on Jill.”
I nod in agreement, “That’s a good idea. I’ll let the rest of the team know.”
Spencer suddenly speaks up, “ I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop on your earlier conversation with Y/n in the classroom. However, I did hear parts of it, and I want to assure you I won’t let anything happen to your sister on this case, Ms. Prescott. You have my word.”
Spencer's words warm my heart even though I know nothing is guaranteed when Ghostface is involved.
Sidney squints her eyes at Spencer as if trying to detect the truth in his statement, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
She leaves the school hallway, and Spencer tells me, “Go follow her, I’ll call the team and update them.”
I nod wordlessly and follow Sid out of the building.
Once I am out of the building and out of earshot of Spencer. Sid is quick to interrogate me.
“Are you sleeping with him?” she quickly questions.
My eyes widen in shock… I mean, technically, we did sleep together last night, but not in the way that she is thinking. “No, of course not! I work with him!”
She looks at me with doubt, “ You are a Prescott. You know the luck we have with psycho boyfriends.”
I roll my eyes, “I think that might just be you, sis.”
She shakes her head, “You just don’t know because you have never had a love life.”
I put my hand to my chest, “ouch.”
She simply rolls her eyes, “Come on, you know I didn't mean it like that. You are just always so focused on work.” She gets serious again, “He didn’t know your identity before this, right?”
“I didn’t let anyone know,” I sigh.
“Are you sure they didn’t figure it out? They are the FBI after all. You never know,” she looks at me intensely.
“I trust Spencer- I mean, I trust my team with my life,” I state.
She shakes her head, “Yeah, sure. Get in the car.”
I sigh and prepare myself for the awkward, silent car ride.
The Art of Romance- Clark Kent x Reader
Summary- The Reader is a mysterious, famous graffiti artist. The catch is that no one knows her identity. One of her works popped up in Metropolis, and now everyone at the Daily Planet is eager to write about the artist.
A/N- Banksy inspired the reader character for this fic. I love his art so much, especially his political pieces. I recommend looking up his works if you aren't already familiar with them. You don't need it for story context. I just love his work.
Reader's pronouns- She/her
Word Count- 4.1 k
Clark walks into the Daily Planet on time as usual, yet the whole office is a buzz. He sets his coffee and work case by his desk and quickly makes his way over to Jimmy to see what's going on.
"Don't you watch the news, Kent? That mystery graffiti artist who has made paintings all over Gotham made their way to Metropolis." Jimmy said as if it were old news already. To be fair, Clark might be a little behind after staying up all night as Superman and running on an hour of sleep.
" I don't see what the big deal is. Graffiti has hardly been a big news story before this," he shrugs.
"Kent? Are you telling me you have never seen their work before?" Jimmy gasps as he pulls up the artist's work on his computer. Jimmy starts to point out each artwork on the computer and their location. "This work of the girl in the gas mask appeared at the location of the Scarecrow attacks, where he used laughing toxin in Gotham. The next one points out the systemic poverty in Gotham with a painting of a beggar with a sign saying Keep your money, I want change. This one, where the gorilla is helping the other animals escape, was done on Arkham Asylum when Joker escaped yet again. Man, I bet Batman hates this artist for pointing it out."
Clark can't help but smirk at this mysterious artist getting under Batman's skin.
Lois Lane swiftly interjects herself into the conversation, "Kent, don't you dare try to take this piece, it's mine. I am going to unmask this artist and find out everything."
Clark feels a little nervous about the way Lois is talking about unmasking the artist. He has empathy for everyone, but a piece of him can especially empathize with everyone in the world wanting to unmask you.
Jimmy laughs, "We will have to see who Perry assigns the piece to."
Lois's eyes widen, "Why? Did you hear something?"
Jimmy shrugs, purposely winding her up, " I don't know. Pretty big piece, especially because it involves Luthor Corp. He might want the guy closest to Superman to write the piece for the staff's safety."
Clark's ears instantly perk up at the mention of Lex Luthor's business. Even though he knows Jimmy was only teasing Lois, he really may need to steal this piece.
"How's Luthor Corp involved?" he asks.
Lois instantly sneers, "Way to go, Olsen, you got him interested in my hit piece."
Jimmy doesn't listen to her as he pulls up a new tab on his computer.
"It has everything to due with Luthor Corp," he says enunciating the word everything.
On Jimmy's screen, a gigantic art piece covers the office building of Luthor Corp. Silhouettes of children hold bombs as if they are precious teddy bears that will protect them from the world. A man in a suit and a hard hat chases the children with a red whip that resembles the red arrow of the stock market.
"Lois will be lucky if she unmask the artist before Lex Luthor gets to them first," Jimmy says, shivering at the idea of what might happen to the artist.
Lois shakes her head, "I bet this artist is tough. If they can make it in Gotham, they can make it in Metropolis."
Clark lets out a worried sigh. This artist may be able to make it in Gotham, but most of those people are lunatics without a plan, whereas Lex Luthor makes plans down to the second.
Perry descends the stairs onto the office floor, and everyone quickly crowds him to ask who gets to write the piece. "You all know the drill! No one picks their own pieces. I assign them," he shouts over all the journalists speaking at once.
Lois quickly grabs an untouched coffee from her desk that has the logo of Perry's favorite coffee shop. She shoves her way through the crowd of other journalists holding the coffee way above her head.
"Perry, I got you a coffee," she says in a sing-songy voice.
Perry rolls his eyes, "Lane, no one likes a suck up." He looks to Jimmy, "Olsen's our best photographer, we need him on this piece. I'm letting him pick his co-writer."
Jimmy instantly sighs, knowing everyone is going to be bothering him now. However, he could perhaps use everyone sucking up to him to his advantage. If he dragged out choosing, he could probably get free coffee for a month. The thought barely had time to cross his mind as Clark wheeled his office chair to his desk.
"Clark, don't look at me like that. You didn't even know the existence of this artist until ten minutes ago." Jimmy responds to Clark's suspicious, charming grin.
Lois Lane runs back to the pair, "Yeah, Clark! Come on, Jimmy, you know I am way more informed about this artist. I can be a huge asset to you and this article."
Clark doesn't like to play the Superman card, especially since it makes the secret harder to keep. Yet for the safety of his friends, he will. Especially if Lex Luthor is involved.
"Lois might be more informed, but does she have direct access to Superman?"
Lois sighs, "You are not seriously offering him an interview with Superman for this case, are you? That's low, Clark."
"That's for Jimmy to find out," he winked.
Jimmy chuckled in response, " The man makes a pretty compelling offer, Lane. Got anything to top it?"
Lois rolled her eyes, "You know I don't."
Jimmy shrugs, "Well, there's that."
Lois angrily huffed and stormed away from Jimmy's desk.
Clark grimaced, "That could have gone better."
Jimmy shakes his head with a smile, "Not the way I see it. I get access to Superman, and I get to tick off Lane in the process. This day can't get any better." Clark sighs and shakes his head in response. Jimmy continues on as if Clark had not responded at all. "Come on, Kent! Let's check out the art before Luthor Corp figures out how to scrub it off the building and pay off the news."
The pair left the office and hailed a taxi. The ride from the Daily Planet to Luthor Corp was heavy with traffic. When the two arrived, it was clear to see why the streets were so packed. People were racing to take photos of the work of art as Luthor Corp employees rushed to block the area off. All the citizens' eyes were on this graffiti, even Jimmy seemed entranced as he pulled his camera out without taking his eyes off the piece. Yet Clark's eyes were on the woman who appeared to be inebriated, being pulled along by another woman, whom Clark recognized as Lex Luthor's assistant.
"I am going to try to interview some witnesses, "Clark uses as an excuse to leave.
Jimmy replies with a nod as he tries to push through the crowd to get some good shots of the art before it is fully covered and scrubbed. Clark is easily able to slip away into a public bathroom and change from his journalist persona to his Superman self.
He catches up to Luthor's assistant just in time. She had almost achieved her goal of getting this inebriated woman into the building unnoticed.
Clark uses his signature Superman charm, "Need any help?"
The assistant's eyes widen as she nearly drops the girl. Clark catches the woman before the assistant does.
"Oh no," the assistant stutters. "She's just a new employee here. She drank one too many mimosas on her lunch break. Just between me and you, I don't think she will last as an employee, too nervous." She laughs anxiously, hoping Superman believes the lie.
He can clearly tell that the woman had been given something much stronger than an extra mimosa by her slow heartbeat. Then Clark feels something dried on the woman's shirt. When he looks down at his hand, it is most certainly paint, the same shade of paint used on the wall of Luthor Corp.
Clark doesn't let the assistant know that he has caught on; instead, he acts like the well-meaning Superman. "If she is so much of a hassle, I can escort the lady home."
The assistant smiles in return, trying to play it off. "I couldn't possibly burden you! You're Superman, I'm sure you have much more important things to do."
The woman Clark is helping hold up finally moves; however, very slowly.
At the mention of Superman, she wills herself to speak. It comes out very slurred due to whatever had been slipped into the drink she had just bought at the coffee shop.
"Please help." You could only manage to get out two words. There is so much you need to say, but words fail you. In fact, your words failing you is exactly what got you into this mess in the first place. A strong sense of justice without the strength or intelligence. Your custom paint canisters are your sword and her pen. Yet without them, you are just like any other citizen.
Superman looks into your eyes, and they show no fear but instead determination.
He smiles as he looks at Luthor's assistant, "Sorry, I cannot deny a person in need."
He takes off into the sky with you still in his arms, leaving a furious assistant who is fearing Lex Luthor's wrath. The assistant considers pointing out that Superman kidnapped a woman to besmirch his name, but that would also reveal her failure to Lex Luthor. Instead, she is frozen by fear and indecision.
You, on the other hand, are fighting to maintain your composure and not vomit on the one and only Superman. Even though you are able to remain composed, Superman does not say a single thing to you during the flight. You are not as composed as you think you are, as Superman easily senses your discomfort.
He lands with ease on the small balcony of his apartment. He steadies you, and it's a good thing he does because without his support, you would have surely collapsed on the ground.
With his grasp still on you, he asks, "Are you the graffiti artist?"
This has been your secret identity for so long that you can't bear to admit it to anyone. Though you are still feeling the effects of being drugged, your argument is not convincing at all. In fact, you basically quote an old Vine from your youth. "Wouldn't you like to know, Superman?" You slur.
Superman blinks slowly at you, "Yeah, I do. That is why I asked." He shakes his head, "You are obviously still under the influence of whatever Luthor Corp slipped you. Sit down, I'll get you some water."
You sit on the couch as he goes to retrieve you a glass of water. As you sit, everything starts to finally hit you. You were drugged, nearly kidnapped by Lex Luthor and his goons, and now you are sitting in Superman's apartment.
This isn't your first run-in with a superhero. In fact, your brother is one. Who very much hates that this is what you do with your free time. You take in your surroundings, and the apartment doesn't look all that super. A work desk overrun with stacks of papers, framed articles, and half-filled, dirty coffee mugs litter the room.
He comes back into the living room and hands you a cup of water with a smile, "That should help flush that junk out of your system."
You chug the water in one gulp, not realizing how thirsty you actually were. "Thank you so much, Superman. You really saved my ass back there, but I really better be going back to Gotham now."
His eyes widen, "You can't be serious! Everyone Lex Luthor's men will be looking for you."
You chuckle, "That's exactly why I need to get back to Gotham. I am much safer there than the average person."
Superman's brain is going a thousand miles an hour to try to think of a way to convince this crazy woman to stay under his protection.
"Before I go, I have to ask, why do you have all these articles about Superman by Clark Kent framed. Isn't that a little egotistical?"
Kent grinds his teeth. You obviously weren't drugged that badly if you were calling him egotistical. He also didn't want to frame those articles, but Ma had insisted last time she and Pa visited. He should have taken you to The Fortress of Solitude, but there was no way you could have handled the flight in the state she was in.
"So... are you going to answer me or stay lost in thought, Superman?" You grin like the Cheshire cat.
He smiles back, "You are obviously feeling better. You up to telling me your name yet?"
You laugh, " I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours?"
He frowns, and you respond, "That's what I thought. Really, though, I have to go back to Gotham before my brother loses his mind." You bounce towards Superman as you remember something important. "You wouldn't mind retrieving my paint canisters? Would you? They are a special recipe of my own creation, and I'd rather not the big bad Lex Luthor have them."
Superman smiles at the joy that appears on your face when you talk about your creative tools. You have been acting annoyingly headstrong and stubborn this whole time, but when you talk about your craft, it's like you're an entirely different person. He can't help but find it a bit cute. It's like when Krypto destroys The Fortress but lights up when he sees Kara, so it's all worth it.
"I will help you retrieve your paint canisters on one condition," he smiles.
You, on the other hand, rolled your eyes at the charming smile. "What is this said condition?"
"You stay by my side until I can safely escort you to Gotham," he states.
You sigh, "Fine."
Suddenly, loud knocking can be heard on his door.
"Hide now," he commands.
You simply stick your tongue out at him.
The pounding on the door continues, but with added shouts from the one and only Louis Lane. "Clark, I know you are in there! I heard Jimmy say you totally ditched him on the graffiti artist piece. You know I wanted that piece! Yet you stole it only to abandon it!"
Your jaw drops, and you start jumping up and down. You point back and forth from the framed articles to Superman with wide eyes. Before you have a chance to say anything, Superman, or should you say Clark Kent, clasps his hand around your mouth.
"I'm kind of busy right now, Lois," he shouts through the door.
"Okay, then give me the article then!" she shouts back.
Clark still has his hand wrapped around your mouth, so you get a devious idea and lick his hand. He rolls his eyes but does not budge as he thinks to himself, This woman is truly the embodiment of Krypto.
"Seriously, Lois, I can't talk right now! I'm chasing a lead." He shouts through the door.
She doesn't sound like she believes it. "Sure. But, Clark, this better be the best article you have ever written in your life to make it up to me."
"You got it, Lois!" He responds
He doesn't let go of your mouth until he hears Lois' footsteps finally leave the building.
As soon as he lets go of you, you scurry across the room. "You didn't even let go of me when I licked you! I bet you're some kind of freak."
Clark sighed, "You are the one who licked me, and I am the freak."
You smirk, "Yes, you are the freak. Clark Kent.
His eyes sharpen at his name, "You have to keep this a secret."
You salute him, "Of course, Superman. From one secret identity haver to another."
He smiles, "So does that mean I get to know your name now?" He gets closer to you, his voice sultry as he throws your own words back at you, "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."
It sends shivers down your spine, and you can't help but blush at how close he has gotten. This is what you get for playing games. He is playing back, and he is enjoying your reaction with his stupid, charming grin.
You straighten your posture and flip your hair out of your face, trying to remain in control. "I am sure you will find out my name soon enough, Superman. Now let's get my paint canisters back."
He smiles, "You ready for another flight?"
You roll your eyes, "Yes, actually. I was only nauseous due to being spiked."
His eyes look worried when he is reminded of that, "Are you sure okay to do this?"
At this, your Cheshire grin is back, "Aw, is Superman worried about me. Don't worry. Living in Gotham gives you a higher tolerance for this stuff."
He shakes his head, " I'd recommend moving to Metropolis." He smirks at his own joke before he says it, " I heard they have some pretty good superheroes here."
"Yeah, you're not egotistical at all," you sarcastically drag out the words.
He rolls his eyes, "Look, my Ma made me hang up those articles, she says they are my best ones."
"Aw, Ma! You're so cute, country boy," you coo over him.
He looks away from you, trying to hide how red you have just made his cheeks. "Let's just get this over with, city girl."
He doesn't warn you as he quickly picks you up and takes off towards Luthor Corp. Your heart drops like you are on a rollercoaster, but you quickly get used to it. He totally didn't warn you on purpose.
He lands on the roof of Luthor Corp, still holding onto you.
"We need to go to their lab. When they drugged me, they took my bag with all my supplies. They want to know how my paints are so permanent. They also have my phone, and I don't want to lose all my saved edits." You state
Superman looks bewildered, "I don't think your phone edits are your biggest priority right now."
You roll your eyes, "I know that there is also classified stuff, but the edits are so good I'll send you some if I ever get you my phone back."
He sighs, "Let's just go to the lab."
You and Clark walk across the roof until you find an air vent that is pumping out gaseous fumes. Typical of a corrupt company like Luthor Corp. Superman pries the metal vent off with ease and jumps into the lab.
The lab techs stare at him in awe and are frozen with fear. He then lifts his hands up, gesturing for you to jump down. You attempt to jump until your hair is quickly captured in someone's fist. You can't turn your head to look, but you hear footsteps approaching you from behind.
As soon as he speaks, you recognize that voice, " Y/N Wayne." Shit, Lex Luthor knows who you are; you are really screwed. "Your brother is known to support technological advances. Here I thought for sure we could work together. Then you come along."
"The Waynes would never work with you!" You sneer and try to turn your head towards him, but the woman's grip on you only tightens. You may have told Clark this mission was about your paints, and don't get me wrong, you love your handcrafted paint canisters, but the real thing you are worried about is your phone. There is way too much classified data on it, and if anyone could hack it, it would be Lex Luthor.
"Superman! Forget about me, destroy the phone!" I shout.
"Engineer, protect the phone," Lex Luthor commands, and the woman drops you on the ground without a second thought.
You try to catch your breath after being harshly dropped on the ground, but before you have the chance to, you receive a swift kick to the ribs by Lex Luthor.
"Why couldn't you just stay out of it?" Luthor repeatedly kicked to emphasize each word.
You could hear Superman and Engineer fighting in the background, but the pain was making your ears ring. You weren't like your brother; you weren't tough, and you spoke back too much, and you feel everything deeply, whereas he pushes everything down. What you did have, though, were cargo pants that were full of pockets to fit random art supplies. While Lex continues to rant at you, it allows you to slyly pull out your box cutter. The next time he goes to kick you, you stab the box cutter up into the sole of his foot, piercing right through his Achilles tendon.
He falls to the ground, grasping his foot, "You bitch!"
Superman flies back out of the vent holding your bag. He leans over you and brushes your hair out of your face. "Are you okay, darling?" He worriendly asks.
"There's that country boy twang," you smile weakly.
He shakes his head but can't suppress the smile, "Can you be serious for once?"
"Nope," You pop the p in the word and continue to smile like this is your average day. To be honest, this is pretty much an average day for a Wayne. You have yet to see the difference between Gotham and Metropolis. Though they do have cleaner streets here.
You cringe as you try to sit up; definitely a few bruised ribs.
Clark is quick to support your back, "Let me help you."
Then, out of the corner of your eye, you see Lex Luthor rip the box cutter out of his foot with fury in his eyes. He charges at both of you, and you scream, "Superman, look out!"
Superman moves smoothly, grabbing Luthor's wrist, making him drop the box cutter. Luthor practically crumbles to the ground due to his sliced tendon and the pressure Superman has on his wrists.
During the scuffle, you are able to stand up on your own, clutching your ribs. You slowly make your way over to Lex, who is still crumpled on the ground.
"Go ahead and tell everyone my identity to everyone. You have nothing on me, and the Waynes know everything about you. You disgust me. You will never get a cent from the Waynes." You state all of this very calmly, but being the person you are, you can't leave it just at that. The man bruised the majority of your ribs. So to really send the message, you gather all the saliva in your mouth and spit directly onto Lex Luthor's face.
Clark stands still, rendered speechless. He blinks a few times and then passes you your phone. "I was able to save your phone without destroying it."
"Perfect!" You smile as you take a photo of the Lex Luthor crumpled on the ground with spit on his face.
You turn back to Superman, "I say this went great, what about you?"
He shakes his head, "We need to leave."
He gathers you up into his arms and takes flight again, but this time landing in an alley by Luthor Corp.
"Really, Thanks for saving my phone. I would hate to have to get a new one. I hate change." You smile up at him sincerely.
He can't help but feel bashful under your praise, " Well, I know you didn't want to lose those saved edits."
You laugh in response and clutch your ribs, quickly reminded of the injuries you just acquired.
The shiny black Batmobile pulls up right beside you mid-conversation. Clark's eyes widen. What is Batman doing outside of Gotham?
You smirk at his shock, "I told you I'm safe in Gotham."
Batman's glare is clear even through the mask, "Y/n, get in the damn car right now!
You roll your eyes as if you're not talking to the Batman, but to you, he is just your annoying overprotective big brother. "One freaking second!"
You pull out a pen from your aforementioned cargo pants full of art supplies. You push up Superman's sleeves and write your number. Then run, still clenching your ribs, and throw yourself into the Batmobile.
You hiss in pain, and Batman simply replies, "That's what you get for being stupid."
You shout, "Call me! Write the best article about me before Lex Luthor smears my name." Then the Batmobile speeds back in the direction of Gotham.
Superman is left speechless as he stares at where the Batmobile was just moments ago. All he knew in that moment was that he would write the best article anyone had ever read for that crazy woman. She had somehow managed to capture his heart in less than twenty-four hours without even trying.
Euphoria (Gregory House x Reader)
Summary- Based on season two episode twenty of House MD. A cop comes in with a mysterious illness and is quickly dying. Foreman has caught the illness, and it is a rush to find answers.
Reader is lowkey Autistic coded, but I think it's just because I wrote her and I am in fact Autistic.
Readers' pronouns- She/her
Word count- 6.6k
Author's Note - I apologize for disappearing off the face of the earth for like a year. I truly do suffer from the fanfic writer's curse.
I just got into work, and it already feels like I have been here for hours. Cameron and Foreman have been arguing about this damn paper for days. Today was no different, especially with Foreman's father sending him a congratulatory letter.
For once, I was thrilled to have House interrupt a conversation, "A cop with a sense of humor." He throws down his cane, "differential diagnosis." He tosses his file to each of us. "Guy is in the ER bleeding on everybody.
Foreman instantly assumes drugs, while Chase argues that the patient is a cop, as if his occupation changes a thing.
"Tox screen is clean. He did, however, get hit with a bullet. Just mentioning," House shrugs.
"He was shot!" Cameron practically shouts.
"No, Cameron. I think it was much more likely the bullet was thrown at him." I say sarcastically. I admit that was probably a bit mean to say, but Cameron and Foreman have been getting on nerves so much lately, so she deserved it.
Her gaze sharpens as she rolls her eyes at me, but House grins at my reply. If I have House grinning, I really need to work on my attitude.
"I'm thinking trauma, the guy has bullet fragments in his brain," Chase breaks the tension.
"According to Baby Shoes, the cop was laughing before he was shot," Foreman interjects.
"Baby Shoes?" Cameron questions.
"I was thinking that too. Why choose that as a name when you could choose something else? Seriously, anything would be better than Baby Shoes."
Foremon rolls his eyes, "Anyway, he was the shooter."
"Reliable witness," she growls.
House pops back into the conversation, "His name is Baby Shoes, how bad can he be?"
I clasp my hands together, "That's it! Choose a name like Baby Shoes, and no one is going to think you were the mastermind in any situation."
"Can we get back to the patient and forget about Baby Shoes?" Foreman sighs.
'I for one think Baby Shoes are very important, but if you want all babies' feet to be cold Foreman so be it!" House interjects as Foreman sighs again. "Fragments are in the wrong place to cause Euphoria. Let's expand the search factor in the cough and cloudy lungs."
"Why are we ignoring the elevated heart rate?" Chase asks.
"Caues he is in shock," She replies.
"What if the heart rate was already fast before he got shot?"
"You mean after the foot race?" Foreman says, doubting Chase per usual.
"He is giddy could mean a block of oxygen," I say, crossing my leg over the other in my chair.
Chase smiles at me, " Carbon dioxide poisoning could explain the blockage of oxygen and neurological function."
"He got CO poisoning outdoors," Cameron rolls her eyes.
"Obviously not Cameron, he could have inhaled enough inside and made it outside before he got too much to die," I respond
"L/n is right test his arterial blood gases. If his carboxyhemoglobin levels are higher than fifteen percent, stick him in a hyperbaric chamber."
"It was my idea," Chase says under his breath, but it is still well heard.
"Yet L/n was the one to defend it." He points to Foreman, "You check the cop car for gas leaks."
"If it was the cop car, the partner would be sick," he replies.
"Well, maybe she is. Just doesn't have as good of a sense of humor. Also, check his personal car, work, and home. I'll check the precinct."
Everyone goes their separate ways as Chase and I go to test the patient's blood.
"You totally stole my answer in the differential, " Chase moans.
"Come on, we are already dealing with enough bikering due to the whole Cameron and Foreman's paper debacle. I was just defending your answer."
" I am not bickering, I am simply trying to come to terms that you are House's favorite," he sighs.
I shove him lightly, "Come on, not this again. I am not House's favorite."
" I can't recall House telling anyone else they were right on the team before testing."
"He just meant the idea was right, not the diagnosis," I roll my eyes.
"Sure, that is also the reason he stares at your chest-"
I quickly interupt, "He does not!"
Chase chuckles, and I can feel my cheeks start to heat up, but I try to compose myself nonetheless.
"Doesn't matter right now, test confirms he has carbon monoxide poisoning," he says with that annoying grin still on his stupid face.
We meet back up with Cameron as we roll the patient to the hyperbaric chamber. She asks him questions about possible causes for his condition. The patient, however, was in another world, laughing and making jokes.
Once we get to the hyperbaric chamber, we inform the patient of how it works and to press the button if he has any issues. He, of course, pressed the button before the treatment even started. Morbid curiosity makes me want to experience this type of euphoria that was until he started to have a muscle contracture.
"How bad is the pain?" Chase asks
"Not all. Looks bad though, doesn't it?"
"Your brain isn't getting enough oxygen, you're losing motor function," I state.
Cameron's eyes widen as she whisper shouts my last name.
"What? He is so happy right now that nothing can affect him. Might as well let him know the truth."I shrug.
Chase ignores us. "We should start this right away."
"Should I be scared?" The patient laughs.
"No! It's probably just a carbon monoxide leak. We have a guy checking out the place right now." Cameron comforts him.
Once the treatment is done, we bring the patient back to his room, and Forman informs us that House wants the patient treated for Legionnaires' disease.
I go down to the cafeteria to get a coffee while the treatment starts. I really hope it helps me focus on work and forget about the earlier Chase conversation.
Wilson comes up behind me, "Add her cost to mine."
"Thank you, Wilson! You didn't have to do that."
"You looked like you could use a pick-me-up. Plus, I wanted to talk to you about something."
"Anything for the giver of coffee," I smile.
"It's about House-"
"I actually have to get back to work! Patients don't cure themselves, you know." I try to avoid the conversation. I cannot handle another House conversation today after Chase.
"Y/n, come on, I know you are not busy right now, he steps in my way. "House has been smiling more, right? You've noticed it too! Not that I'm not happy for him, but there has to be a reason why. He's not taking more Vicodin, is he?"
I sigh for his concerned friend, "I haven't noticed him taking any more than usual."
"Hmm. I think it's a girl; he seems more concerned with his appearance lately. " He says thoughtfully. It shouldn't bother me, but I feel this gross, dark feeling in my heart.
"Well, why would I know Wilson! I'm just his employee." I storm off. Gosh, I don't like this. These feelings are unfamiliar. I really should have gone out more in my youth instead of focusing my all on med school. I may know everything about genetics and the human body, but I am severely lacking in the feelings department.
I return to the patient's room during a troubling conversation between him and Foreman.
"You got a problem with cops? In my experience, people who have a problem with cops have something to hide."
Chase turns on the light for the X-ray. "They're the infiltrates we found yesterday."
"They're not there anymore?" The patient asks.
Chase responds, "They're clearing up. You had Legionnaires now you don't."
The patient seems on edge, stuttering, "So you didn't find anything at my place."
Chase and I look to Foreman as he is the one who did the house search. He must have found something; there is no other reason this patient would be so on edge.
"Nothing medically relevant," he replies.
"There's nothing I need to worry about then?"The patient asks in response.
"Not this time," Foreman walks around to the X-ray and turns the light board on wheels backwards. He starts gesturing to the board even though there is no longer anything on it since he turned it around. I look at him inquisitively as he says, "What we found was fairly advanced. These cloudy areas here and here. These parts of your lungs were not functioning."
"They're okay now, though? Everything is okay now?"
Our eyes widen. He can't see the board at all. I waved my hand in front of his face slowly, yet there was no response. This man is currently blind but completely unaware. I page Cameron to set up the eye examination equipment and wheel the patient down with Foreman.
We try to check his eyes, yet he keeps insisting he is fine. Cameron tries to console him, and Foreman takes a more direct approach.
"What is Dr Cameron wearing?"
He proceeds to list off an entirely different outfit that she is not wearing.
"Oh, almost! Except for the shirt, pants, and shoes. You're blind" Foreman sarcastically says.
"We have to tell House. I mean, that is, if you are done harassing the patient Foreman," I roll my eyes.
I have a nurse take the patient back to his room so the team can regroup in House's office.
Chase asks, "Do you really think he's blind?"
"He can see his brain just doesn't process it," I respond.
"Anton's blindness indicates damage to both optical lobes," Foreman chimes in.
"Must be from the trauma," Cameron replies.
"No way! Bullet fragments hit both lobes in two different spots," I gawk.
House looks like he wants to chuckle at my disgust at Cameron's suggestion. "Stroke could cause euphoria and Anton's blindness. Start him on Heperin to thin his blood, find the clot, yank it out."
"Clot would be at the top of the bilateral vertebral arteries," Foreman points out.
"Great!" House looks to me, "Stick your fingers in there, grope around till you find it. Oh, wait, wait, that would turn him into a vegetable. Then there would be frivolous lawsuits." He points to the sky as if he had a eureka moment, "You know what would be better? Contrast MRI. Do we have one of those?"
Chase sighs, "We can't do an MRI, the bullet fragments. If the bullet fragments are magnetic, they will tear his brain apart."
"Well, let's flip a coin! Heads, he gets an MRI; tails, he dies.
"The police issue Kevlar vests don't have a ceramic plate insert that would shatter a bullet; it would just catch it. So the bullet shattered on its own. Meaning Baby Shoes was using .38 caliber hollow points. Which, unfortunately, are ferromagnetic." Foreman teaches us. I can't help but lean in, absorbing all the information, but Cameron and Chase just look at each other, shocked.
House smiles, "It's just so cool, you know that."
Cameron interrupts, " We could do an Angio to find the clotting?"
"Waste of time. The skull produces way too much artifact. We'll never get a decent view." House responds.
"Next best thing to an MRI," Chase adds.
"And a waste of time-"
"Angio might show-" Forman interrupts House, but House is quick to interrupt him right back. "Oh, God, it's a coup! I swear, Y/n is the only one of you idiots that listens!"
Chase whispers to me, "Teacher's pet who refuses to admit she's the favorite." I have to bite my lip to keep from yelling at him. I can feel Cameron seething from House's comment as well. He may be a funny, handsome genius, but he is still a jerk who is making my colleagues hate my guts.
House continues, "Fine! Go do your Angio. When you are done wasting time, meet me down in the morgue." He leaves the room with us all looking at each other, slightly confused about why we would need to go to the morgue.
I leave the Angio to Cameron and Foreman. Chase and I wait for them to head down to the morgue. When we get there, House is rifling through the cadaver cabinets.
"What did the Angio show?" he asks.
"Uh, what are you looking for?"Chase questions.
"I called my mom, she didn't pick up." He responds sarcastically. "What did the Angio tell us?"
"That Foreman should be off the case," she exclaims.
I facepalm, "and here I thought I had advoided you two and your endless bickering by letting you two do the angio on your own."
"Cheer up, Y/n, maybe they will kiss and make up like in one of those dirty enemies-to-lovers books you read." House jabs as I deeply blush. How does he know I read those?
Cameron completely ignores us, "he doesn't like cops." Foreman smirks just smirks. I wish House was right, and it would turn into enemies-to-lovers just to cease this constant bickering.
"Foreman, police are our friends. If you and I are ever separated shopping-" House says jokingly, but is interrupted by Foreman.
"I was just busting the guy's chops."
"See. He was just busting the guy's chops," House tells Cameron. "Foreman is essential to helping solve this case. Medically, what did the angio tell us?"
No one else is going to tell House it seems so, I hop back into the conversation, "There appears to be some clotting possibly in the circle of Willis. Based on the progressive symptoms, the clot is growing."
Chase interjects, "We need to cut-"
House interrupts, "Saying there appears to be clotting is like saying there appears to be a traffic jam ahead. Is it a ten-car pile-up or just a really slow bus in the center lane? And if it is a bus, is it a thrombotic bus or an embolic bus? I think I pushed that metaphor too far."
"Angio can't tell us that type of information," Forman says.
"Oh, so you are saying it was a waste of time," House replies.
"It was not a waste of time; it gave us some information without killing him," he states.
"You don't know if an MRI will kill him," House responds.
"The bullets have a ferrous base!" Foreman yells.
"Little tiny fragments in his head, they aren't going anywhere," House says as he starts to put earplugs in his ear.
Maybe it's worth looking into surgery to remove the fragments," Chase adds."
"A surgeon may say it's inoperable. Or the patient is on blood thinners. Other than that, perfect planning," House says as he fiddles with a bag.
"Got a better plan?" Cameron quickly asks.
"Much," House says as he pulls a freaking gun out of the bag he was previously fiddling with! Our eyes all widen as he shoots an already deceased cadaver.
"Bullets identical to the ones Baby Shoes popped Joe with. Let's see how magnetic it is." House says like it's a normal day, and to be honest, it kind of is. Something crazy is always happening here.
I stare dumbfounded, but the words slip out of my mouth before I think, "Can I try? I mean, you don't get to see the effects of bullet wounds on an already dead person frequently."
Cameron gasps, "You are a freak."
"Oh, Cameron, don't be jealous. I know they say freaks are better in the sheets, but that doesn't mean you need to take out your jealousy on Y/n," House smiles.
The autopsy guy runs in, "Did anybody hear a-"
House quickly cuts him off, "I shot him. He's dead."
I have to bite my lip to refrain from laughing at the absurdity of it all. The autopsy guy leaves confused and annoyed, but presumably, he is used to House's actions and leaves. We wheel the freshly shot cadaver to get an MRI.
Cameron notes that the bullet pieces have split into four fragments with no exit wound.
"I only used half the amount of gunpowder," House informs.
"We won't be exactly precise comparing an X-ray to an MRI," I add.
House hums, "How unprofessional do you two think Foreman was?"
Foreman throws his arms, "I am right here you could ask me!"
Cameron is quick to chime in, "Worse than usual. Better than you. He berated Joe for being a bad cop."
"Berated or humiliated?" House asks
"I don't know. I didn't have my thesaurus with me," she sighs.
"Well.. what if he is a bad cop?" I hum
"He is still our patient L/N. Don't act like Foreman," she responds.
I pretend to shiver, "Oh, Cameron, you insult me so."
House smirks. I can't help but stare, but quickly look away to avoid being caught. He speaks up again, "Back to the subject at hand, one implies he took pleasure in berating the cop. I wanna know if it is repressed anger or just giddiness."
Foreman quickly gets offended and leaves the cadaver's side. "Whoa. Whoa. You think I'm sick?"
"I think the appropriate response to seeing your boss shoot a corpse is not to grin foolishly." He retorts.
"First off, L/N asked if she could shoot the damn corpse, and second off, the fact that I have grown bored of your insanity is proof of nothing," Foreman crosses his arms.
"Hey, don't bring me into this," I throw my hands up in response.
"Yeah, Foreman, don't throw L/N into this. She has always been a freak, that's why I hired her. Now Dr. Chase requires your assistance."
I am unsure if I should be pleased that he defended me or offended that he called me a freak. I should probably be a little offended, but I am too busy fighting the blush that is heating up my cheeks.
Cuddy walks in while Chase and Foreman lift the cadaver. "I can't imagine the backwards logic you used to justify shooting a corpse."
"Well, if I shot a real-life person, there would be a lot more paperwork," House quips.
"Then it won't be a problem for you to stand by the casket at the wake and explain why a cancer patient has a bullet hole in his head?" she responds without missing a beat.
House gestures to the cadaver, " The man donated his body to science. Yes, it is a tragedy. If I hadn't shot him, his body could have spent next year letting first-year med students use his body to use the carpool lane."
Chase and Foreman enter the small room to avoid radiation.
"He's set," Chase informs.
"Do not turn that on, House," Cuddy commands.
"You're mad because I put a bullet in his head. At worst, all I am doing is taking it out now," He responds and turns on the machine.
The lights instantly flicker, and the sound of electricity crackles. Metal sounds ricocheting off the MRI sound off as the emergency backup lights turn on. Cameron, Chase, Foreman, and I all look to each other nervously as Cuddy is fuming. We all awkwardly return to the office as Chase stays and waits for news about the MRI.
He returns to all of us, nervously tapping our feet and looking around the office. "They have to shut down the magnet to fix it. MRI is going to be out of commission for at least two weeks."
Foreman laughs. I am not one to judge for laughing at the wrong moments, I mean, I do it all too frequently. However, it is very unlike Foreman; something about it is unnerving.
"Well, it doesn't matter now. We obviously can't use it on our patient," House replies to Chase.
"No," Cameron drags out the o. "But there are other doctors and patients in this hospital."
"That explains how they can afford all the fancy equipment. I am sure I am pulling my weight," House shrugs.
Foreman is rocking in his chair and says, "Is doing nothing an option?" A really shocking question from Foreman. He looks to as all, "I'm just saying. Maybe the clot will break up on its own, and the giddiness seems to have gone away."
I look to Foreman, confused, "The blindness hasn't gone away, though."
"Echo his heart," House states.
"For what? The problem is obviously neurological," Cameron says.
"The clots are in his brain; the source of the clots may not be,". Do a complete transthoracic echocardiogram. Maybe we get lucky. Maybe the clots are coming from the heart," he responds.
We all get up to perform the tasks. Unfortunately still no answers. The heart was clean. Mid-test he had extreme tachycardia luckily, we were all there to perform the test, so we could take care of this. Cameron informs us he is bleeding out as I rush to get more saline.
Foreman isn't even helping as he looks at his nails, "House wanted to thin his blood. Sure did a good job."
"Foreman, now isn't the time! Come on and help!" I shout.
"BP is crashing, he is going into shock," Cameron yells.
"Intracranial bleeding. We need to relieve the pressure," Chase says urgently.
"We need a surgical team now," I inform one of the nurses who had run into the room due to the commotion.
During all of this, Foreman starts to giggle, and all of our heads whip to him. "Foreman, get out," I yell at him.
He continues to laugh even harder, "Boy, is he screwed! We thin his blood he dies. We take him off blood thinners, and he dies. Am I the only one who finds this funny?" Something is seriously wrong with Foreman right now, but we have to get this patient stable.
Once the patient is stable, we put him and Foreman into an Isolation room, and the surgical team has to suit up in hazmat gear. Foreman continues to say he is not sick, and it is absurd that someone can't laugh. The one good thing about this is that we can get an MRI scan now with the portable one.
Once Cameron, Chase, and I have checked out the portable MRI we return to the office. House is sitting in his office chair drawing his blood.
"Everyone, test your blood. Anyone with an elevated sed rate gets to be Foreman's roommate. " He states as he draws his own blood.
"Foreman should be a part of this," Cameron says confidently.
"He's a patient now," he responds.
"He's not irrational," She debates.
"Well, he certainly isn't objective either," I cross my arms.
"He's got the most motivation to get diagnosed," Cameron yells at me.
House rolls his eyes at Cameron, "Right, and you're not even friends with him. Why would you care?"
Cameron sighs in defeat as House points out the gray, mushy area in the MRI we received courtesy of Foreman.
"The question is what is causing the mush," he asks the team.
Cameron perks back up, "That's a question you might want to ask a neurologist. Foreman may be a selfish jerk, but he is a neurologist, and he is the only one who has been in that apartment."
House retorts right back, "This is exactly why he shouldn't be here. You wouldn't call him a jerk if he were here. If you think he screwed up at the apartment, you would keep it to yourself."
Cameron quickly tries to defend herself, but fails.
"Well, we will never know. As long as he is not here, he is like any other patient. Which means we can dump on him as much as we want. What's eating the selfish jerk's brain?"
"West Nile or Eastern equine encephalitis," Chase starts listing anything he can think of.
"Draw Foreman's blood. Since he is the only one who got it person to person transmission is less likely than some kind of toxic poison Foreman could have picked up at the guuys home. Who wants to go next?" House instructs.
Chase, Cameron, and I all look to each other. Cameron quickly goes to exit the office to do the home search.
"Whoa. Whoa. You're ready to risk your life for a guy who doesn't consider you a friend." House stops Cameron from leaving.
"He's just a patient, right? It's the job." Cameron shrugs.
"Hey, you don't have to go anywhere. Joe's apartment is in the lab downstairs. Foreman brought back samples of everything." He stops Cameron again.
Chase becomes agitated, "Hey, what was that all about then. Some kind of test."
"Duh, it was a test. Have you met House?" I respond.
House smiles, "Down L/N. No one likes a know-it-all." I roll my eyes as he continues, "Don't worry, Chase. You made the right call. Foreman stumbled into whatever it is without knowing. He's way smarter than you are."
Chase rolls his eyes at House's antics. We all go our separate ways. Cameron and Chase go to the lab, and I go to draw Foreman's blood.
It was difficult to take Foreman's blood in the suit, and he kept badgering me about the results of the MRI.
"Come on! I know you are House's teacher's pet and do whatever he tells you to," he laughs." But you would have told any other patient the results by now.
I sigh, he is lucky that I am tired of being called the teacher's pet today. " The MRI showed a lesion in your cingulate cortex."
"What is he thinking?" He asks.
"Toxin is the lead. Viral is second but less likely because we would all be sick." I inform him.
Do you think the lesion could be an abscess?" he asks.
"It's just a small area more mush than anything," I attempt to calm him down.
"Was there inflammation in the lining of the ventricles?" he asks.
"There was an increased signal there. What are you thinking?"
"Staph infection. Toxins lead to neurodegeneration, which causes the lesions," he hypothesises.
"Yes, but not without a fever," I frown.
"The cop had a fever. Mine could be coming. I could have gotten it directly from the cop, or a dirty dish towel at his place. Give us Ommaya reservoir. Deliver linezolid directly to our brain and we're cured," he smiles brightly, so brightly in fact I am worried he is still suffering from euphoria.
I doubt talking to him right now will be productive, so I tell him I will bring it up with House.
He rolls his eyes, "You check everything by House! Just do this and we are cured. I'll even let you take the win and tell House it was your idea!"
"We can't break procedure just because you're the patient, Foreman," I try to reason.
"I bet you would break procedure if I were House," he mumbles.
"What are you trying to say, Foreman?" I cross my arms angrily.
He raises his hands up, "Look, you're smart, I am sure you can figure it out."
I huff at him as I storm out of the isolation room. After I take the protective gear off, I head back to the office. All the tests are negative. We are getting nowhere.
"We have to go back to Joe's apartment and get more samples," Cameron tries to argue, but is quickly interrupted by House.
"No one, and I mean no one, is going back to that place until we know what we are looking for. Get some of that cop tape, stick it over the doors and windows." House demands as he looks at all of us.
Cameron still argues back, "I will take all the precautions, hazmat suit and everything. The chance of infection is next to zero."
"I was never that great at math, but next to nothing is higher than nothing. Right?" House snarkily replies, but I know he is feeling as anxious as the rest of us are for Foreman.
"It's not your fault he got sick," Cameron tries to comfort.
I look to Cameron, "but it would be his fault if we did. We have no idea what we are dealing with here. The more of us on the case, the better."
I can see her grind her jaw. Sadly, my little speech did nothing to change her feelings. If anything, it just made her more upset.
"We should get a biopsy from Joe's brain," House says.
Cameron yells in response, "We can't do a biopsy on Joe's brain, there is too much swelling from the bleeding because you gave him heparin!"
"Well, I don't think this is the time to be pointing fingers. I didn't give Foreman any." He says as if the idea just popped into his head.
Our eyes all widen.
"You can't be serious. You want to give Foreman a brain biopsy?" I ask.
"Come, who doesn't?" He jokes.
I didn't want to bring up Foreman's idea, really not trusting his judgment right now, but if it helps him avoid a brain biopsy, so be it. "This could just be a staph infection causing neurodegeneration!"
House has the same response I did, "Without a fever, not a chance."
"Joe had a fever," I defend.
"He also had Legionella," he responds casually.
"The mush may be forming an abscess. And since there was inflammation of the lining of the ventricles, it makes sense. " I continue on with the conversation even though he seems done with it.
"This is a waste of time. If I am going to be arguing with Foreman, I might as well do it directly." House responds.
I frown, obviously being caught that I told Foreman about the case. House leaves the office to talk to Foreman, and I look to Chase and Cameron, embarrassed.
"Look, I knew it was a low chance, but I'd rather it be staph than take a chunk of his brain," I sigh.
"This is exactly why none of us should be on this case," Chase exclaims! "Cameron claims she hates the guy but is willing to search the house and get infected just to find the cause, Cameron glares. "And you, Y/n always arguing with us, suddenly defending things you don't believe in." I sigh. It hurts to hear, but he is right. None of us should be on this case, but it doesn't change anything. We are the only department that can solve it.
Maybe it was for the best that I couldn't help with Foreman's surgery. Chase and House performed the surgery. He told Foreman he was going to place the Ommaya reservoir, but knowing House, he is doing the biopsy. I can't do anything now, so I try to take a nap in the on-call room. Of course, though I can't even manage a second of rest and up spending my time staring at the ceiling.
I ran the biopsy results in the lab, and unfortunately, there is no concrete answer. I go with the rest of the team to inform House of the results.
"Results are in no specific signs of inflammation," I hand him the papers.
"That's it?" he asks.
Chase replies, "We also swabbed for Staph. Negative. He's not even. a carrier"
"Well, at least Foreman was wrong to," He sighs.
"Can I go to Joe's apartment now?" Cameron asks, well, more like demands.
"No. Go back to the lab and start retesting all the samples Foreman brought in," he demands.
"For what?" Chase asks.
"For everything!" House yells back. I can really tell House is stressing, but we all are right now. I am starting to think Cameron should go back to the house, but there is no way House is going to listen to that right now. "Y/N suit up. You are going to monitor Foreman. He is onto hand contractures. He should be at Anton's Blindness anytime soon. Run hourly checks because when he does go blind, he won't be able to tell us. We'll use the data to construct a timeline to see how far behind he is from Joe." He looks at us and scoffs, "Why are you still here?"
Cameron, Chase, and I all go off to do our assigned jobs.
I suit up in the hazmat suit and go into the isolation room to check Foreman's temperature.
"I'm sorry the biopsy showed us nothing. If it helps, I tried to get House to not do it," I inform him.
"How can there be nothing? You cut out a chunk of my brain," he is upset, understandably so.
"I am sorry, I can't change the results. We didn't find anything," I try to tell him again.
" Can you up his morphine for God's sake," Foreman moans as Joe screams.
"He's already maxed out at 20 milligrams an hour, " I frown.
"What about toxins?" Foreman tries to brainstorm again.
"We already tested everything. They were all negative," I hate having to keep telling him this.
"There was a cupboard above the stove. Did you see it? I didn't check all the food, but could be listerious," He still continues with ideas.
I frown again, "We didn't go back."
"Who did?" His eyes widen in shock as he asks.
"House said we shouldn't go. Too dangerous. Cameron keeps trying to go back for you, though. She's still out there defending you," I try to cheer him up the slightest.
"The answers have to be in that apartment! Not going is too dangerous!" He yells at me.
"I'm really sorry, Foreman," I sigh.
"No! You're grateful. If House had pointed at you instead of me, you would be the one in here!" He yelled again.
I frown. I know there is nothing I can say to help, so I continue the exam.
"Look straight forward and tell me when you can see-"
He cuts me off, "You're a doctor, it's your job to go back! You go where the disease is!"
"Foreman, please. Say when you can see the light," I frown.
"I'm dying and you're measuring how fast I go!" He screams again, getting angrier as time passes.
"Just tell me you can see the light!" I scream back, getting frustrated at the circumstances as well.
"My vision is fine!"
I frown, "Your left side is reduced."
"It's fine, I'll prove it!" He quickly stands up, and before I know it, he has an IV needle in his hand. Before I have time to think, he stabs me in the leg, breaking the barrier of the hazmat suit.
My eyes widen as I look at Foreman seriously. "Foreman, what the fuck did you just do?"
Foreman has a crazed look in his eyes as he says, "Now we are both exposed. You have two choices: tell House what just happened and get your own cot bed in here, or you can go back to the apartment. You save me, the cop, and yourself."
I can't help the gasp that comes out of my mouth, "You sound insane right now."
He smiles, "House picking you to check on me really worked in my favor."
I grimace, "And how is that?"
"Even if you do end up telling House what I did, someone will still go back to the cop's house. House may not be willing to do everything in his power to save me, but he would do anything to save you." He continues to smile as if it is the best plan in the world. "So the question is L/N. Do you want to risk your life and House's or just yours?"
I scoff at his ridiculous insinuation, but just in case House would really do something so risky to save me, I comply with Foreman's demands. My life is already at risk; I don't need to bring another person down with me.
I leave the isolation room and tell no one where I am going. I may have already been exposed, but I'm not an idiot who thinks I instantly have it after one exposure. To err on the side of caution, I sneak out a hazmat suit to bring with me.
When there, I have to cut through the air-tight bio-hazard plastic to get into the cop's apartment. I sweep through the house, grabbing samples of absolutely everything. By the end of it, I have a trash bag full.
As I exit the apartment, I am shocked by House's voice, "Here I was thinking you were the smart one of the bunch. Who knew your heart was all soft and gooey under that sarcastic exterior?"
I took off the top of the Hazmat suit, "He broke my skin with a tainted needle."
"Come on, you know a needle stick carries very little chance of infection," he shakes his head. "He tried to kill you, and yet you still caved to him. Personally, if someone stabbed me, the last thing I would do is try to save their life. I would probably try to stab him back. Maybe you know, tell my boss." He looks serious all of a sudden. "You should have told me."
"I'm fine being the idiot if you keep getting to live to be the smart one and stay out of the cesspool apartment," I mutter under my breath as I try to walk by him.
Before I can get too far, he whips his cane out in front of me, preventing me from moving forward.
He smiles, "So it was about me then."
Damnit, I underestimated his hearing abilities.
I feel my face heating up, but I try to play it cool. "House, you're such a narcissist. I'm not doing this to protect you; I am doing this so you can cure Foreman and not waste time at this apartment.
His smile turns to a full grin, and I know I must have messed up somewhere.
"I never said anything about you protecting me, though I must admit the idea sounds nice." His eyes do not leave my face as my eyes fight to look anywhere but his face.
I am a stuttering mess as I try to think of a way to talk myself out of it, but it seems the ship has sailed. The cane that was keeping me from walking away suddenly pushes me up against the wall.
"Y/n," he says as if he has always used my first name. I can't help but shiver from the way he said my name as if it were second nature.
"If you ever do something like this again, there will be hell to pay. The idea of your protection is nice, but seeing you put yourself in harms way disgusts me. You don't want to disgust me, do you, Y/n?"
My breaths come out ragged from how close he is. I somehow manage to shake my head no, which gains a sly grin.
"Good. I knew you were my favorite lackey for a reason. You listen so well." His praise sends shivers down my spine. I don't know how he manages to be so condescending yet praise me at the same time. "If you're a good girl and get your blood checked for elevated sed rates when we get back, I'll have to reward you."
All of my rational thoughts had long escaped my head, "god, I wish I could kiss you right now without a chance of infection."
"Idiot, what do you think the reward was going to be for good blood results?" He smirks. "Now hand me the samples, hope you risked your life for something valuable."
I made a call of duty self insert… yeah. WHAT ARE TOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT.
me going back and writing the same one shot that i've been working on since last year
To relatable 😭 Sorry to my followers for my lack of follow through 💀
LGBTQ+ is for all Queer people... but is it?
New research and studies have shown that LGBTQ+ are more likely to be disabled than the rest of the population. According to lgbtmap.org, a survey based in Washington found that 39% of transgender people reported being disabled, and one out of three lesbians and one out of three bisexuals reported being disabled. Despite these studies pride parades and events are almost always inaccessible to those with disabilities even though disabilities disproportionally affect those in the LGBTQ+ community. How is it that the majority of queer people are disabled but accommodations are still an afterthought? A pride event I frequent and was proud to be an art vendor at last year had somehow forgotten this year to get an ASL interpreter and could not find one last-minute. They then proceeded to let people know the morning of. Of course, they faced backlash and came out with an updated apology. The apology said, "We sincerely apologize to those who felt excluded." This apology is very much lacking because we don't just feel excluded WE ARE EXCLUDED. This is just one of many examples of how pride is often inaccessible there are many more stories like this. From no accessible pathways for those in wheelchairs or with service dogs, no accessible bathrooms just porta-potties, lack of seating, and the list of inaccessibility at Pride unfortunately is never-ending. It is the unfortunate reality of being disabled that most spaces are not made for us. Some people even think it should be that way and that we should "just stay home then". We are people too! With human emotions, I feel like I shouldn't even have to say that. We should be able to feel pride for our sexuality too, not just those who are able-bodied. Isn't that what pride is all about! Acceptance and celebration of being who you are. No matter what others think. There can be no acceptance without the acceptance of all of the LGBTQ+ community. I hope for an accessible pride someday but I don't foresee it happening anytime soon. That is why we have to speak up any way we can for what is right. Make others see so one day there will be acceptance for all the LGBTQ+ community no matter their health status.
tumblr writers make shakespeare quake in his grave
Could you pls do a fake dating fic with Colin bridgerton? Tysm xx
A Life Long Scheme
A/N- Sorry for the delay! I really do have the fanfiction writer curse! I say that every time but I mean it! I got my appendix out and rode in an ambulance. They don't even play music in them FYI.
Readers Pronouns- She/Her
Word Count- 2,512
Summary- You convince Colin to fake court you to gain the attention of other suitors but jealousy consumes Colin.
I knew I would have a hard time finding a suitor from a young age. My family may be wealthy enough to attend balls but certainly not enough for a sizable dowry for each of their children. I grew up competitive trying to prove myself worthy even if I came with a small dowry. My siblings relied on their looks but I was determined to be the best at everything. I will treat coming out like I do life competitively. As the eldest, I must set an example.
I was lined up with the others coming out into society this year. They all nervously played with their clothes and looked to the floor. I too felt like doing that but I kept my emotions bottled tightly in my chest and held my head high. We all took our turns bowing in front of the Queen she looked completely unbothered by us, dare I say bored.
I was last in line she looked me up and down and said, "I am unsure if anyone qualifies as a diamond this season."
I can't fight back the sharp inhale I take, I can physically feel my heart launch its way into my throat. I feel as if I may hurl as she gets up and walks away escorted by her guards. I look around at others visible shock. I can't help but feel the Queen just left because of me. I mean I was the last one. I need to do something! I can't fail already I just came out into society!
My night was filled with pacing and plotting. There has to be a way to impress Her Majesty. My Mama tried to comfort me but Father quickly told her there was no point in speaking to me when I was like this. I hate to admit but he is unfortunately correct. Once I am in a thought spiral there is no getting out. I thought of other seasons for most of the night as I lay in bed. What did they do to gain the Queen's attention? The most notable season of late would have to be Daphne's. I can't recall the last time The Ton has seen a marriage done with such haste before. She had a massive amount of suitors after her though that was only after The Duke's appearance.
The idea hit me suddenly I launched out of bed, put my carpet slippers on, and ran out of the house. I am lucky my family sleeps so soundly because I am sure I sounded like a horse trotting as I ran through the house. The Bridgerton manor is right next to ours, so close in fact that I grew up playing games with all the Bridgertons. Colin has always been my dearest friend (even though Mama always told me a male friend was improper). I knew Colin would go along with my plan, we have been scheming and pranking since we were children. This should be no different! It unfortunately hit me how late it was when I stood in the darkness of the Bridgerton Garden. I was here now I refused to backtrack just because it was an untimely hour.
I used the bushes to help guide me to Colin's familiar window. Once there I gathered tiny pebbles and started ricocheting them off his window. It did not take him long to wake and open the window with a messy bedhead and a lit lantern. His face instantly flushes at the sight of me.
"My god Y/n what are you doing out here in this state!" He shouts
I follow his gaze to my clothes and feel my face heat. My god, I did not think this through as I stood in front of Colin Bridgerton's window in the dark, in my silk nightgown. I will see this through the damage is done. "I have a plan," I smile.
He sighs and rubs his forehead, "Oh no… you are lucky my sleeping schedule is still askew from traveling abroad. Now get inside before someone sees you!"
I met him in the drawing room and he refused to look me in the eye, "So what is so important that you have decided to grace the house with your presence at this ungodly hour."
"I am here to present you with a proposition," I clasp my hands as he finally looks at my face suspiciously.
"And what might this proposition be? I can assume nothing good," he questions.
I roll my eyes and pace as I recite my plan."As you know Daphne was utterly suitorless during her season courtesy of Anthony. However, the moment a Duke entered the picture she had men competing for hand. They could not care less about Anthony's interventions."
Colin nodded confused, "Your point?"
"My point is I need competition! So I propose that you pretend to court me! If you will? I know you are aware of my Papa's financial situation… I mean the whole ton is after Lady Whistledown published his unfortunate business decisions and his one-too-many daughters for a dowry. None of this will matter if I can get a suitor who loves me and will help my family but that can't be done if I can't attract a suitor!" I continue to pace as Colin looks entirely unsure of what to make of this situation. I take a deep breath, "So what do you say?"
Colin looks at me with puppy dog eyes, "Of course Y/n. You are my dearest friend. I must know why you decided to discuss this so late at night in your…" he flushes again and looks to the ground. "In your nightgown."
I suddenly became all too aware of my attire and became a stuttering mess, "the conversation was of utmost importance the time of day and clothing choices have nothing to do with it!"
Colin smirks, "I see."
"I must save my Papa's business if not for him but for the chance my sisters will get to marry for true love and not for financial gain," I sigh. Colin's eyes which were once teasing turn to sadness, "Do not look at me like that Colin. I don't need your pity, I need your help."
He nods and straightens his posture, "Of course Y/n. Of course, I will help."
I quietly snuck back into the house after speaking to Colin. The plan was set in stone he would be the first dance on my dance card and we would round up potential suitors together. We were joined at the hip for every event and I purposely chose the busiest times to promenade so the most amount of suitors would see us.
I soon began to gain the attention of many suitors and even had many coming to my house to call on me! Mama was so proud I was so happy to take her mind off the situation with Papa.
Mama pulled me to the side of the drawing room, "Maybe hanging out with the Bridgerton boy will help you! Maybe their fortune will rub off on us!" I was proud to inform her I was to promenade in the park today with Colin. It was odd to see her smile with excitement instead of pale at the thought of her daughter spending her time with a man who never planned to court her. I wish she wasn't only proud of me when I wasn't doing something that benefited me in finding a wealthy suitor. It's no matter though, I will do anything to make her proud, and it feels like I'm finally doing it. She spent the whole morning with me to find a suitable dress for my outing.
Colin arrived promptly at the time we set previously and accompanied me to the park. As we promenaded I felt many eyes on us they truly believed Colin would court the daughter of a family barely escaping financial ruin. It is truly almost humorous how easily we have swayed the ton.
"It is truly working Colin! Mother is so proud that I will be the one to save my family's reputation. Such a shame she picked such a layered gown for one of the warmest days of the season," I whisper and fiddle with the seams of my dress.
Colin sighs, "How many suitors are you getting from this Y/n? They can't all have honorable intentions given your beauty and your family's standing."
I roll my eyes, " Why Colin Bridgerton are you jealous? I would not think you are the type. Do not worry you will always be my dearest friend. No husband could replace you."
His face turns serious, "I am just worried. I hope you are doing this for the right reasons and not for the sake of your Mama… and I am most certainly not jealous."
For someone who said he is certainly not jealous he didn't sound quite certain. That, however, is not what distracted me. "You think I want to marry a man not for love but purely for financial gain? It is every woman's dream to marry for love! We can't all have the privilege to do so! Especially one born into a family with a gambling addict for a father and a mother too frail to defend herself. My mother has been preparing me for coming out since I was a child! This is my job as the eldest! To secure a good future for my siblings so perhaps they get the opportunity to marry for love as I will never get to!" I back up as if I may burn from Colin's shocking gaze but I still point a finger at him, "And the fact that you don't already know this Bridgerton is having me question if we ever truly were friends! Perhaps all those travel stories in your head leave not much room for anything else."
I storm away from the Bridgerton, I think after his initial shock he calls for me but my rage prevents me from looking back to see if it was true or a cruel trick of my ears. It was perhaps not the greatest idea to run off from a suitor with no chaperone. Maybe I wouldn't have found myself in such a precarious situation if I had chaperone. I find myself cursing my father in my head for his terrible gambling habits that prevent anyone from wanting to associate with the likes of us. Therefore getting me into this mess in the first place.
"Y/N L/N, we have been watching you for quite some time. Your father never described your intense beauty but how could one put it into words?" The seedy man approached me.
I smiled politely, "Thank you! May I inquire how you know my father?"
"Oh darling I think you know why we are here. I mean the whole ton knows about your father's habits shall we say." He smiles menaceingly and I think to myself of course this has to do with his damn gambling habits.
I back up in case I have to make a quick escape and he unfortunately catches on. He grabs my wrist to keep me in place, "We have been very patient with your father. Given his position in the ton, we thought we could be lenient with his payment schedule. However, it turns out we were mistaken. What is more shocking is the fact that his daughter thinks she has a chance of finding a suitor with no dowry."
"Sir please unhand me," I try to pull away from his grasp.
"You think being in the company of the Bridgertons will help your family situation? Perhaps we could take you as payment? You do draw a lot of attention despite your social ruin. We could use you to bring more men to the establishment," he smiles sinisterly.
I yank my hand away even harder out of fear but his strength still outmatches mine, "Why would I ever help you put more families in financial ruin!"
He laughs, "Darling you think you have a choice?"
His eyes narrow at something behind me and I hear Colin's voice, "I believe the lady asked you to unhand her."
"This does not involve you, sir," he growled.
"You see it is my business when you have your hands on my betrothed, Colin growls back.
My eyes furrowed in confusion. He had been fake courting me of course but we certainly did not discuss a fake betrothal.
The man laughs yet again, "I read in Lady Whistledown that you were courting her but the fact a Bridgerton would sink to the likes of the L/N family."
I took in a shallow breath and Colin growled in response. This situation was going quickly downhill.
"You will not besmirch the lady's name! Now I won't ask again unhand her!" Colin shouts.
"Whatever you say," he smirks and tosses me to the ground. Colin's grimace seems to only encourage the man more, "I'd honestly prefer to use her to replace her father's debt but if you want to drag your family name down with her so be it." He walks away with a peppy jaunt in his step and I glare at him from the ground.
Colin quickly helps me to my feet, "I would have dueled him right here and now if I was not in the presence of a lady."
I brush the dirt off my gown, "It's fine. I'm fine. I will handle it."
"No, you will not! you will not take a step towards that insipid man," he yells.
"Well, Colin you don't really have any choice in that matter! Do you? You are just fake courting me. Or fake betrothing me now? I don't know. I have lost track honestly!" I rant.
His face turns serious, "Y/n I care for you! I would forsake my whole family name for you! You think I do not burn with rage every time I see a new man attempt to call on you after I started court you! I noticed your beauty and your smarts before any of these men did! The fact that they only noticed you once another gentleman entered the picture is disgraceful! I will always notice you Y/n! I will never let your family go through this! I hope to be a love match for you and help your family."
Tears collect in my eyes. As the oldest sibling I've never been the one that was cared for but the one that does the caring. Colin's words made me feel full. I try to tease but it comes more out as a sob, "Mr. Bridgerton are you proposing to me."
He smiles, "I think it is about time I finally proposed to you after you always proposed your schemes to me. So what do you say Ms. L/N? Would you like to continue proposing schemes to me for the rest of our lives?"
I nod aggressively smiling. There was no stopping the happy tears now.
Now what the flip was that flower contraption in the new season of Bridgerton episode six!
My Birdy Took Flight
A/N- I am aware I really need to write my asks and my Spencer Reid story but I am currently obsessed with Simon Riley okay!
Simon Riley x Sniper Reader
Readers pronouns- She/her
TW- Swearing, falling, injuries, and military inaccuracies but I mean it's COD and they have a zombie game so are going to attack them too? lol
Summary- Who knew the complete off-the-books mission would go off the rails and leave you with the worst rope burns of your life. The injuries however were not the scary part it was having to face Ghost and admit you fell out of the heli.
Word Count- 1991
This mission was completely off the books, asshole. Shephard did not care at all that Kate had been taken hostage and would not send reinforcements for help. I've been working with Price and Kate since I was a recruit. They are my family. There was no way I was leaving Kate to be killed. The plan was simple enough. I stayed in the heli for overwatch while Price, Gaz, and Farah worked their way up the line. Things were going smoothly. I've worked with Nik before. He is one hell of a pilot. Things howeve,r took a turn for the worse, and an explosive hit the copter, and I fucking fell out. I'm sure Nik and Captain thought I died for a moment, but I was bloody hanging from the rope. I am lucky my sniper skills are still top-notch when I'm hanging upside down, though I would prefer not to test it again. After that hiccup, we recovered Kate, and she luckily had no physical injuries.
We returned to base that night and Price insisted I go to the med bay to get checked out. To quote his words, "You look like shit kid, get the hell to med bay before I drag you myself."
The medic rushed to treat me, but something told me that was Price's doing. They wanted to keep me here for observation due to my concussion from the explosion impact. I begged them not to I'd sleep way better in the barracks I hate the sanitary hospital smell, I even prefer the smell of gunpowder. The medic would not take no for an answer I wanted to fight them harder but they said they preferred my anger to Price's wrath. The medic left shortly after and would return sporadically to do random vital checks. At least I knew the concussion wasn't that bad as it didn't beckon me toward the darkness like other times. Though my raw skin kept me from finding any peace I honestly kind of miss the darkness. I spent the night tossing and turning the pain and clinical setting keeping sleep a far distance away from me.
The clock ticking was mocking me as I watched it hit four am. How are hospital settings supposed to help you heal when there is so much beeping and someone always coming into your room? Speaking of which I heard the door creak yet again didn't they just take my vitals ten minutes ago! I can't take this without thinking I launch the flat uncomfortable pillow at what I assumed would be the intern medic yet again only to lock eyes with Ghost looking as shocked as I did.
"That's one hell of a greeting darling," he says in his usual deep voice. My eyes are still wide with shock that I just hit my superior with a pillow but he takes this opportunity to speak again. "Heard you took flight today, Gaz was telling everyone."
I wince at the thought of everyone knowing I failed to hold on during the explosion and try to change the subject to avoid thinking about it, "Aren't you supposed to be on a mission with Soap?"
"Just got back. Johnny and Gaz are out celebrating," he responds.
"They are out celebrating at four am?" I question.
"You know Johnny no one can outdrink the Scott," he says like it's the most obvious thing the world.
"Well, why aren't you out there celebrating with them?"
"My birdy took flight and thought it only decent to check up on her," any other time I would have dwelled on the fact that he said 'my birdy' but he placed his hand on my welted ankle and I could not suppress the groan. His eyes quickly shift to concern and he rips the scratchy hospital blanket off me.
"Ghost!" I shout at him for having the audacity to rip the blanket off me. He has no right to barge in here and act like he's in charge, he may be the boss of me in the field but he is not my doctor and I do not care for showing off my nasty ass wounds to my team members.
He does not acknowledge my shout at him in the slightest instead his full attention is on my rope-burned ankles."What quack treated this," he growled.
"I'm fine," I try to yank my foot out of his grasp but he holds tighter.
"Yeah because the skin falling off your ankle looks spectacular," he says sarcastically.
"Wow you sure know how to treat a girl," I roll my eyes.
"Haven't heard any complaints," he says nonchalantly as if that innuendo wouldn't have Soap applauding.
"Seriously, it's fine. Go celebrate with the team," I assure.
"If you think I am letting you let your ankle get infected you are off your rocker. I am going to need names, sweetheart," he commands.
The nickname glides out of his mouth so easily it's as if he had said it a hundred times. I want to stay as calm and collected as him but I unfortunately stutter, "What names?" God, it's a good thing I'm a sniper and not a spy because I would be dead.
"Of the idiot docs who treated this," he speaks as if it's obvious.
I sigh, "It's not their fault... I didn't tell them. Price only knew about the concussion and I just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible."
"Ah so you're the idiot," he growls.
"Can you not be mean to me I did just fall out of a heli."
"Shut up you lived," he rolls his eyes, gently places my foot down, and turns to leave.
"Please don't take your anger out on the medics," I beg.
"Oh trust me darling I will be taking my anger out on you," he growls yet again.
I shiver, "Where are you going then?"
"To get some medical supplies for your dumbass. No one way I'm letting a medic treat you when you will just lie to them."
"What makes you think I won't lie to you?" I tease well aware that I am in no place to be teasing.
He chuckles an evil kind still it's one of the best I've heard, "Me and you both know you aren't capable of it."
He exits the room and I am unsure if I want to slap him or rip that mask off and kiss him... I am definitely incapable of either. I may be able to beat Soap, Gaz, and even Price on the mat but no one can best Ghost. I, unfortunately, hear him shouting at medics for a damn first aid kit... so much for him taking out his anger on me.
He returns rather quickly but does not speak as he meticulously places the first aid supplies by my bedside.
He pours some alcohol on my rope burn and I hiss loudly, "shit a little warning would be nice."
"You would have just fought harder. Need to clean the debris out who fuckin knows how old that rope was."
"Aw is Ghosty worried about me," I pout.
"Thought I told you and Johnny to stop calling me that, you want me to make this hurt worse than it already does?"
I roll my eyes at him and in response, he presses the gauze harder than necessary. "You asshole!"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," I can see his wicked smile through his balaclava.
"Yeah sure," I huff. "You know..." I smile mischievously. "This would go a lot faster if you just kissed it better."
"Oh really," I could hear the grin in his voice. I was expecting him to make some snide comment in return instead he finishes wrapping my ankle and lifts his mask to rest on the bridge of his nose.
I am sure my eyes widen to the size of saucers. I feel like a Victorian man seeing a woman's ankle. His grin widens it could only be compared to the Cheshire cat's smile. He gently lifts my ankle to his lips but does not stop there. He places delicate kisses all the way up to my thigh. I think I have officially stopped breathing. Then my heart decides to do the most embarrassing thing ever. It speeds up so atrociously fast that the monitors start beeping incredibly loud. That's it I have officially died there is no coming back my face is melting off from how flushed I am.
Ghost sits back and laughs and I mean properly laughs, I have never seen him like this. "This is a good look on you birdy all red and flustered, all for me too." He pulls his mask back down but I can still see the smile in his eyes.
"Shut up! I am a highly trained sought-after sniper, I don't get flustered!" I feel like that would have sounded better if I didn't stutter each word.
Ghost glances at my heart rate monitor, "Your heart says otherwise."
A medic comes in as the dumb machine won't stop beating, "Are you alright? You're looking quite flushed and your blood pressure is higher than it was when you first came in."
I swear I could see the smugness radiating off Ghost. God I want to strangle him.
"She's fine thanks to me," his eyes squint at me and I know he has a huge grin under that balaclava. He then turns to the medic, "Don't you know the 141 are notorious liars and the worst patients! Next time call me down here as soon as she is being treated."
The poor medic flinches at Ghost's rough voice and can barely whisper, "Yes, sir"
I mouth, 'I'm so sorry," to the medic he looks appreciative.
The medic flees as soon as my blood pressure normalizes. Ghost roughly throws his body onto the uncomfortable hospital chair and groans.
"What are you doing? Shouldn't you be going back to the barracks," I glance as he makes himself comfortable well as comfortable as one can be in a torn hospital chair.
"In a rush to get rid of me birdy?"
"Is that name going to become a thing," I roll my eyes.
"Only for me, if anyone else has the nerve to call you that I'll gut them," he replies.
"Even Johnny?"
"Especially Johnny," He grins.
I smile, "Seriously Ghost you should go sleep in your own bed that chair cannot be comfortable. I'd be in my bed if they would let me escape."
"I know you can't stand hospitals, I won't let you be sleepless and cranky alone."
"Fine, then at least share the bed with me, I forbid you from sleeping on that fifty-year-old chair."
"The fact that you think you can forbid me from doing anything sweetheart is laughable. Are you sure you want me to be over there might make your heart monitor scream again?" He makes his way over to the bed despite his words.
I roll my eyes, "I'll manage."
He lays on the small hospital bed and takes up ninety percent of it but I don't mind it because it doesn't smell like hand sanitizer and blood anymore it smells like him.
"Goodnight birdy," he kisses the top of my head and my heartrate monitor instantly starts beeping annoyingly again.
"Goddammit," I groan and he just laughs.
"You would make a terrible spy with all those emotions, you're lucky the red face works on you." he chuckles.
"You're just jealous of my amazing sniping abilities you must point out my flaws," I poke his chest.
"You ain't got no flaws birdy except the fact that you're stubborn as hell. Now go to sleep before I knock you out myself."
"Yes LT.," I fake salute him and he rolls his eyes.
Sleep comes so much faster in the med bay when you aren't alone. I wish falling asleep would always be this easy.
Can we normalize speaking in bridgerton language/ye olde english. Like I’d say I must say I prefer to paint by myself than with the company of others I fear I may be solitary being who prefers solitary pursuits. Instead I have to figure out a way to say I’m Autistic and I think I may be aromantic/asexual or a lesbian I don’t know man 😭
